The Hybrid’s True-Born Mate
by mesmolbeanz
Summary: SYNOPSIS INSIDE
1. DISCLAIMER

This is a work of fiction. This novel series is a crossover between _The Vampire Diaries_ , _The Originals_ , and _Legacies_. I do not hold ownership to any of _The Vampire Diaries_ , _The Originals_ , or _Legacies_ characters, only mine. Each original character's actions and thoughts portrayed in this novel series are purely based on my imagination. Existing characters' actions and thoughts portrayed in this novel are taken from the script in which they are featured, along with my own ideas added inside.

There are possible mistakes, such as grammatical errors, factual information, and missing plots. If you, as the reader, happens to notice any mishaps or have constructive criticism to provide, feel free to comment as this helps me with my writing development.

This novel series contains M-rated content. There will be no warning in chapters, just here. Posting will be random.

If you prefer to read on Wattpad, I have an account on there with the same username.

 **Warning:**

 **• Sexual content**

 **• Explicit language**

 **• Violence**

 **• Mentions and portrayals of death**

THIS BOOK IS PART ONE OF A EIGHT PART SERIES CONTAINING CROSSOVERS IN THE VAMPIRE DIARIES, ORIGINALS, AND LEGACIES. BOOKS WITH A DASH (-) CAN BE READ AS A STAND-ALONE.

SUPREME SERIES

\- SUPREME SERIES: BOOK ONE THE HYBRID'S TRUE-BORN MATE — NIKLAUS MIKAELSON / OC

\- SUPREME SERIES: BOOK TWO WITCHES OF THE PRISON WORLD — MALACHAI PARKER / OC

\- SUPREME SERIES: BOOK THREE THE DEATH OF A VAMPIRE — LORENZO ST. JOHN / OC

SUPREME SERIES: BOOK FOUR HERETICS OF NEW ORLEANS — MALACHAI PARKER / OC

SUPREME SERIES: BOOK FIVE **(NO NAME AS OF YET)** — REBEKAH MIKAELSON / OC

SUPREME SERIES: BOOK SIX THE DEATH OF MY LOVER — LORENZO ST. JOHN / OC

SUPREME SERIES: BOOK SEVEN **(NO NAME AS OF YET)** — ELIJAH MIKAELSON / OC

SUPREME SERIES: BOOK EIGHT THE HYBRID'S PURE-BLOOD — HOPE MIKAELSON / OC

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any way without my written permission.

Copyright @ 2019 by mesmolbeanz


	2. SYNOPSIS

Niklaus Mikaelson: determined, calculative, reckless. The sage man possessed attributes necessary for centuries-long survival. He had his given family. He had his acquired power. And he most certainly had control. One thing Niklaus Mikaelson did not have, was a pack. The less than honorable hybrid was no stranger to disguised foes and although cautious, Niklaus Mikaelson was most certainly not a quitter. One night, across a sea of deceased bodies, he meets a young girl who will give him everything he has always yearned for.

Maxine Mitchell: stubborn, callous, meticulous. The hardened girl had lived such a short life with such loneliness. Abandonment was a reoccurring theme across the board of friendships she had formed throughout her life. A pessimist from birth, Maxine Mitchell's opinion was not one to be swayed so effortlessly. Unlike Niklaus Mikaelson, Maxine Mitchell had no family, no power, and certainly no control - of herself that is. It is not long after her entrapment by Niklaus Mikaelson that she finds herself slipping into a world full of greed and sovereignty.


	3. PROLOGUE

**Quick Author's Note: The OC will be different for each character taken from the series. Maxine will stay with Klaus! Also, I plan on posting the Prologue, Chapter 1, and Chapter 2 today and tomorrow. I know you guys have already read the Prologue and Chapter 1, but there are slight changes that I felt were necessary to make. They won't require you to read the chapters again unless you feel it is necessary to do so because they are not plot changes, just tweaking past and present tense. Also, if you prefer to read on Wattpad, my username is the same on there!**

———————————————————

 **Gatlinburg, Tennessee — August 23, 2010**

 **Maxine's POV**

Sixty-four days.

That is how long I've been with these people — these people being a pack of werewolves that don't seem to be able to hold down a permanent campground.

 _Lucky me._

In the last couple of months that I've been with this pack, we've moved _four_ times. The two leaders, a brother and sister duo, seem to think it is best if we consistently stay on the run. They believe it to be safer that way. Ray and Paige — the siblings — also continuously encourage me to accept their offer into the, as they like to call it, ' _pack_ _family_ '.

 _Encourage? More like insist_ , my conscience scoffs.

Thing is, I want nothing to do with being in a pack. I don't want to be permanently tied down to people. I don't want a home because a home comes with attachments and attachments come with love and love comes with pain. Everything always leads to one inevitable end: _pain_.

What they refuse to understand is that I've gone my whole life without a family, why would I want one now?

Hiking up the incline of a steep hill for nearly an hour was what my day had consisted of. Supposedly, we were somewhere in or near the Great Smokey Mountains. Tennessee was bland in the rural areas with a climate that forced my naturally waved, long hair to cling to my neck. My hot-blooded skin released sweat like mad, which in turn made my body reek of odor. To sum it up, I was in desperate need of a shower.

There had been a torrential rainfall the night before, basking the air in humid fog. Every step my feet took, they became suctioned into the soggy mud. Last week, we were in Memphis, Tennessee and the week before that, Pensacola, Florida. My mind can't even recall the initial place we'd traveled to, but I did know we mostly remained in the mountainous regions. Laying low wasn't safe. It was sitting up high that let you observe the world below, be cautious, and not easily manipulated.

I'm abruptly pulled from my thoughts when I trip over a jagged rock peeking out of the ground. With expert speed, my hands instinctively push in front of my body and prevent the sure-to-be-embarrassing fall before I face-plant into the wet dirt.

 _That was a close one. How had I not noticed that rock?_

"Nice one, shorty," I hear a familiar, obnoxious voice snort from behind. I peek over my shoulder to see the always-annoying-Josh with an entertained smirk on his tanned face. That guy was such a loose cannon that it was nearly laughable. With no brain cells, he's a walking disaster just waiting to happen. Wait, I take that back! He's a walking disaster that already has happened.

Snarling at his grin, I say, "Fuck off, Josh." My back turns on him and I face forward again, continuing the long trek up the mountain.

"Oh, look who's finally gaining a backbone," Josh jokes to one of his friends, probably slapping them on the chest if I was to guess based off of the smacking sound I hear being emitted.

If there is one thing I am not, then that is a pushover. Nobody is going to tell me what to do and nobody is going to talk down to me. I do a one-eighty and give the guy a piece of my mind. "You listen here, asshole," I call out to Josh, grabbing his cotton shirt in my fist to emphasize my seriousness. "You better watch what you say to me because I am far from a nice person and I won't hesitate to snap your neck, understand?"

The pompous bastard doesn't bother replying with words, just laughs, believing my warning to be in vain. Taking advantage of his relaxed guard, I leap at him. Though unable to change into my werewolf form at will, I'm still a strong girl in my human body.

Before my tense fingers can strike, I'm pulled away just in time. Arms wrap around my torso and tug, forcing my body to create distance from a shaken Josh.

"Let me go! I want to rip his throat out!" I growl, arms and legs flailing in a failed attempt to escape.

"No. Calm down!" the person I now recognize to be Paige says. As a much older and more experienced werewolf, I'm not surprised that her taller and stronger body is the one holding me back. I am known for being hot-headed and stubborn but never had I reacted in such a way around Josh or anyone in the pack for that matter.

My eyes once again hone in on Josh when he begins speaking. This time, he's less smug and more nervous. He steps behind his friends, quick to get himself out of harm's way. "Okay, okay! I understand. I won't upset you anymore. Just _please_ don't freak out on me like that ever again." Josh holds his hands up defensively, palms facing my direction. His voice shakes with fear as he pleads for forgiveness.

 _What a schmuck_.

Satisfied with his answer, I unwrap my formerly restless body from Paige's now slack grip and continue hiking, mindless of everybody's eyes on my back. Calling out to Josh over my shoulder, I yell to be heard over the wildlife, "Good. It's best you don't make me mad again."

I'm not upset that people are doubtlessly afraid of me. I want them to be scared. It is in their best interest not to get in my way.

Thankfully, it is only a few meters later that we reach our destination and I'm able to put space between myself and these annoying people.

"Okay guys, we'll set up camp here," Ray announces, clapping his hands and gesturing to the expanse of moor. Just like everyone else, Paige and I begin removing the bags from our shoulders and situating ourselves comfortably on logs, taking a quick but much-needed break. I fish a noisy plastic bottle out of the left side pocket attached to my bag and down greedy sips of lukewarm water.

My eyes catch Ray out of their periphery, rapidly approaching his sister and I. "Hey, Paige?" he says once close enough to have her full attention and a bit of privacy from the other werewolves. His hands anxiously wring together and feet tap impatiently on the heavily saturated soil.

 _Ray is nervous_.

"What is it, Ray," Paige sighs, already expecting unpleasant news.

I see hesitation flicker in Ray's green eyes, so vividly bright and unlike his sister's, which were brown and lackluster. He's debating whether or not to go through with what he wanted to tell his sibling. In the end, he continues.

"I-I was just going to let you know that I'm heading out to that bar a few miles from ground level. The one I've been frequenting for the past few weeks now," Ray explains softly to Paige, trying to be comforting and cautious concomitantly.

Annoyed, Paige stands suddenly, flailing her arms around in exasperation. "What're you talking about, Ray? Why're you leaving when we just got here?" Her obnoxiously loud voice and dramatic antics draw the attention of the other pack members. When Ray says nothing to her demanding questions, Paige protests, yelling, "You can't honestly expect us to set this up while you go get hammered!"

Ray takes a surprised step backward, away from his sister. "Please, P. Listen, I'll make it up to you," Ray pleads with his sister, using the short name she was so fond of.

Paige scoffs, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. "Fine, whatever. Just get out of my face."

Ray appears to be debating on saying something else but decides to just turn and walk away, disappearing down the path we'd just came from minutes prior. Derek, Paige's boyfriend, comes over, taking a seat on the log next to her. He wraps a comforting arm around her small shoulders and she leans into the touch.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Derek politely asks, despite being more than aware of what had just occurred.

Paige sighs, disappointed and saddened by the turn of events. "It's just... Ray. He's been distant ever since what happened the last full moon. He doesn't want to be anywhere near the pack. He won't even confide in me."

Ah, so that's what's been wrong with him. Ray's best friend, Jim, was killed when we all turned the last full moon. Jim was not part of the supernatural, like Derek, but he was very well trained in protecting himself against werewolves and had remained with Ray and the pack for years. Certainly long before I ever came around. Someone had torn his body to shreds and although it was upsetting, it was less than surprising. Full moons brought out the worst in all of us. Ray had thrown a tantrum, demanding answers, but nobody confessed.

Truth be told, it could have been any one of us and we just might not be able to remember.

Ever since that night, Ray's been day drinking away his sorrows and his relationship with Paige has become more and more strained. Before moving here, Ray had traveled alone to scope out the land, as per usual. He ended up staying longer than expected — a few weeks longer. Lately, he's even become a regular at a country-style bar in Tulley called Southern Comfort.

 _How fitting_.

Derek stayed with Paige as she and I rested our sore bodies for a few extra minutes before leaving to gather firewood with other young men. Paige, now the temporary sole leader, put the other members to work as well. Just like Paige and I did, they set up their shared tents, preparing the sleeping arrangements for the nights we would not be turning. Paige and I shared a tent with Derek and Ray. It was a tight fit, but the pack was all about living the minimalist lifestyle.

Glancing around while idly hooking the rods together, I watch the other werewolves chatting animatedly with their friends. All of us were misfits and nomads picked up along the way, inducted into the pack with open arms. _Family_ , that was the word Paige and Ray liked to use to refer to all twenty of us as. There might be more, might be less than the score I guesstimated. I stopped counting weeks ago.

I'm not friends with these people. In fact, I'm frequently cold to them. I have never had any friends, never have had a family. The literal and figurative definition of the two words isn't lost on me. I know what they mean, I just have yet to experience them. I'm quite nonpareil when I take to being a lone wolf. It is how it has always been and how it will always be. But, the honest truth is that I'm afraid. Yes, unperturbed, strong-willed Maxine is afraid. Thrust into the werewolf scene, I'm unsure of myself and suspicious of everyone else.

Growing up, I wasn't privy to the gospel of werewolves. Shunned from the teaching and severely misinformed by my guardian, I believed them to be savage monsters. Unbeknownst to myself, I am half of one. The people I am presently surrounded by are eager to help me, to show me who I was born to be, and like a sponge, I soaked up all of the information. Despite their geniality, I am still as unwilling as before to become friends or family with these people. My intentions are to gain as much knowledge and guidance as they will provide before leaving without any loose strings.

Call me a parasite, an opportunist. Hell, you could even call me a manipulative bitch. I took advantage of the pack's generosity, using them for my personal gain, and not giving anything in return. I took what I was being offered with open arms at the expense of my ethics. My morals. I didn't heed the warning my mind screamed at me, saying this was a bad idea. I didn't feel uncertainty nor did I feel guilty for my freeloading tendencies.

I didn't feel anything at all.

———————————————————

 **Tulley, Tennessee**

 **Niklaus' POV**

Humans.

The extraneous pests are rather inconsequential when you are in desperate need of information. The only thing they are necessary for is their addicting blood. Even then, they aren't vital to the food chain. Their role can easily be replaced. Just take my estranged companion Stefan for example. He feasted on the blood of wild animals for decades before being corrupted once again by yours truly.

Ray Sutton is the man I am searching high and low for. He is part of a rather large pack. A good two dozen werewolves, give or take. The wanted werewolf is rather fond of humans — a particular two which are now dead. He won't be informed of the girls' — Samara's and Keisha's — deaths until he is faced with the killer's friend himself.

 _Me_.

 _"He's in Tulley. It's near the border. A bar called Southern Comfort. It's off Highway Forty-one."_

According to the dark-haired girl, Ray is in Tennessee, near the border. He's close and presumably in a mountainous region. I had followed the girl's directions into Tulley and with much guidance from the natives, found the bar she referred to as Southern Comfort.

It is early in the morning when I make my arrival. A quick whiff of the bar enlightens me of the filiation of our current neighbors.

 _All human._

 _Ray isn't here._

I send Stefan off to compel the bar inhabitants while I situate myself on a stool, grabbing a drink. Bourbon, one of my favorites.

Ray Sutton is imperative to my plan. I need his werewolves to change successfully. I need to create my army. Without my army, I have no protection.

It is only a quarter 'til two when an unsuspecting werewolf swaggers into the dim bar, much of the light being provided by the neon signs and filtered in through the blind-covered windows. Just as the song _Barton Hollow_ begins playing, the brown-haired male walks by a local and they exchange hellos before he eases himself over the bar's edge. Chatting with the bartender, he says, "Hey, Red. Can I get a beer?"

"Ray? Ray Sutton?" I ask, slinking out of the shadows where I have been lurking in waiting to join my victim at the bar. The bartender fishes a bottle of beer out of the cooler and removes the metal cap before sitting it in front of Ray.

Ray spares me a glance, raising his eyebrows in question before looking away. "Who wants to know?" he asks skeptically, just as wary of me as the two girls from last night had been.

I smile at the blunt man. He isn't one to beat around the bush, that's for sure. "I've been looking everywhere for you." Ray gives me another glance, now intrigued. "We started in Florida, Pensacola," I say, referencing to Stefan and I. "I met a young chap there who you used to work with before you moved to Memphis, now he directed me to two lovely young women. And they led me here, to you." I file the last nail in the coffin by pointing an accusatory finger in his direction.

Uncomfortable with the personal conversation, Ray steps away from the bar, sitting his still-full beer on the table. "I think I'll be going," he mutters politely, attempting to walk away.

My hand on his chest stops his feet from moving. I stand to my full height as well, towering over him by a few good inches. "Not so fast, mate. You only just got here. Now, your type are very hard to come by," I say suggestively, knowing he is not stupid enough to miss my indication.

Ray turns away from my knowing eyes and bumps into Stefan who had come up to stand behind him. "I wouldn't do that," Stefan whispers cautiously before backing the werewolf up against the counter.

"Vampires," Ray sighs in displeasure.

I smile. "You're swifty swift, Ray! Yes! My friend here is a vampire. He compelled everybody in the bar, so don't look to them for any help." I gesture to the bar patrons and Ray glances over at them, sitting calmly while looking in our direction. "I, however, I'm something else, a different kind of monster. I've got some vampire, I've got some wolf."

Ray, disgusted and startled, glares at me. His voice trembles as he says, "You what?"

 _Do I have to spell it out for him?_

"A hybrid, Ray. I'm both." I watch the werewolf's eyes shift anxiously between Stefan and I. "You see I want to create more of _me_. Now, you being the first werewolf that I've come across in many a moon, pun intended Ray!" A laugh follows my witty words before becoming serious once again. "I need you to direct me to your pack. So, where can I find them, Ray?"

"You can't compel me, it won't work," Ray contradicts.

Stefan begins scratching his temple as if to silently ask the questions, " _Violence? Plan B?_ " I look to him and he nods in understanding. Turning to the barman, he orders, "I need a scotch on the rocks, please." Stefan then pulls a black pouch out of his back pants pocket and begins opening it. "Tell you what, Ray. We're going to play a little drinking game." He pulls a deadly plant out of the bag and reveals it to Ray, crushing it between his fingers before carelessly dropping the molested, dried petals to the floor. "Something I like to call ' _Truth or Wolfsbane_.'"

I smile deviously at the look on the werewolf's face.

"Oh, this is going to be fun, Ray."

———————————————————

 **Gatlinburg, Tennessee**

 **Maxine's POV**

Hours have passed devoid of Ray. I assume my fellow werewolf has reached ground-level by now. To take it a step further, I'm willing to bet he is already in Tulley. The small, western town is not far from the mountainous region the pack and I are settling down in at the moment. Most, but not all, of the tents were set up. The first night is usually spent gathering firewood and food for the next week instead of preparing beds. We try to travel as lightly as possible so that we are harder to track and faster on our feet.

Paige is in an irritable mood, as per usual. She and Ray always have each other's back when it is most important, but otherwise, they aren't the most harmonious of siblings. On their own, they are each peaceful leaders. Together, they are baleful enemies. I know they love each other, but they just can't stand sharing the title of Alpha.

Ray is all about living up to the standards placed on them by society. Paige wants freedom. She wants to live by her desires, not the desires of others, least of all their ancestors.

It was those differing views that caused their tumultuous relationship.

Tonight, Paige yearns for Ray to come back. Despite their differences, she has been concerned about him since Jim's death. He has become so reserved. So volatile and quick-tempered.

 _How long before Ray is okay again?_

 _What will it take to make Ray be okay again?_

From where I stand beside Paige, I hear her sigh heavily. My hands continue their task of stacking the gathered firewood into a pile. A large branch falls over and I bend down to situate it into a better-suited area. Again, I hear Paige sigh, this time more noticeable. _Purposely_ noticeable.

"What is it, Paige," I relent, asking what I know she wants me to. I turn around to give the girl my full attention, just as she always prefers.

Paige's face has a frown curving her lips down. Worry is present in her brown eyes, but for once not for her brother. No, I have seen before how she looks when concerned for Ray. This is different. I watch her quickly glance over to the right and back at me again, hoping not to be seen by whoever her eyes had strayed to. I look over in that direction as well, more conspicuous than she had been.

There are only a few people over there. Tommy, Jordan, Eva...

 _Derek_.

Catching on to who she silently pointed out, I come to sit beside her so that I won't be heard.

 _Not that the human will hear me anyway._

"Is this about Derek?" I ask quietly.

Without hesitation, Paige nods. This must be something she's been wanting to discuss for a while. She turns to me, tears visible in her eyes.

 _God, was she was really going to start crying?_

"Max, I'm not sure if I should stay with Derek. I love him, that's not the issue. Nothing's happened, but Ray wants me to mate. He says I'm at the prime age. Ray thinks I'm just wasting my time with Derek because he's a measly human," she scoffs bitterly.

I know Ray likes Derek. He has never hurt Paige, physically or emotionally. He is an upstanding gentleman, the perfect boyfriend a brother could ever dream for his little sister.

But he isn't a werewolf.

In the werewolf community, we're mated, almost like a marriage. Failure to do so is frowned upon as it is a right of passage in many people's eyes. There have been several werewolves who didn't gain a mate, but a human counterpart. Just like humans, we fall in love and want to create a life together. Once mated, then you become one. Mind, body, and soul.

"Paige, just because Ray wants that doesn't mean that you have to want it," I reply after much deliberation. "There are many reasons I am the person that I am today. One of them is because I don't follow orders. I don't let other people dictate my life. Do what makes you happy. You shouldn't have to choose between your brother and your partner. If you stay with Derek and Ray forces you out of the pack, don't turn back. Leave."

"Why? Why should I stay with Derek and not find a mate?"

I frown, searching for the answer deep inside my soul. There is no better word than the one that falls unauthorized through my parted lips.

"Freedom."

———————————————————

 **Tulley, Tennessee**

 **Niklaus' POV**

Eleven on double.

Four-hundred-seventy-nine.

Nine on single.

Four-hundred-seventy.

Six on single...

Stefan is losing his touch.

I watch from afar, amusement present on my face as my vampire companion throws darts at the chained-to-the-wall werewolf. Held hostage by his restraints, Ray growls in agony as another wolfsbane-laced dart is thrown his way, striking his jugular.

 _Bullseye_.

Blood drips from the other red and green darts, even running down into his right eye and light-haired, greasy beard.

"Ray, you can end this right now," Stefan persuades, leisurely making his way over to Ray. The werewolf huffs in pain, eyes alight with fury. Stefan pulls out the recently thrown dart from his body. "Just tell me where your pack gathers for the full moon."

Ray wheezes, barely gasping out a reply. "I can't."

"I know, I know. You live by code and all that, but see he's not going to let me stop until you tell me. And I do whatever he says so, that's the way it goes around here," Stefan replies lazily, referring to me. I smirk. _The boy knows his place_.

A dark-haired woman comes over to me. Claudine, one of the women I had compelled last night to survey the house of the two dead girls. Somehow, I had a feeling the vermin of Mystic Falls would be turning up soon. "Hello, mister Klaus," she greets. "I have some more information for you." Over the woman's shoulder, I see Stefan attempt to discreetly glance in our direction. He walks closer, eavesdropping. The woman continues, whispering, "You told me to tell you if I saw anything. I saw that guy's brother Damon at the farmhouse."

"Well, thank you, Claudine. You just tell your friends to keep up the good work with the neighborhood watch, huh?" I say, referring to the other bunch of humans I had compelled as well.

Claudine leaves and Stefan walks in her place. "My brother's still on our trail?"

My jaw clamps displeased yet not surprised that Stefan had been listening in on my private conversation. "He's getting closer. I'm going to have to deal with that." I begin walking past Stefan but he grabs my bicep with his hand, rapidly saying, "No, no, no! Let me handle it."

With a smirk on my face, I ask, "Why should I let you leave?"

 _This better be good._

Without a second of hesitation, Stefan answers, "'Cause you know I'll come back."

"Do I?"

"You saved my brother's life. I'm in your service," Stefan replies with conviction, looking into my eyes earnestly. _At least what he wanted to seem as earnest._

I sigh. "Oh, that all sounds so tedious and indentured." I gesture to the strung up werewolf with a gleeful smile. "Aren't you even having the least bit of fun?" A laugh slips from my lips. Stefan spares a peek at Ray but immediately turns away without answering me. Instead, he replies, "I'll make sure my brother doesn't bother us anymore."

Without another word or my approval, Stefan walks out of the bar, leaving me with a bloody werewolf and a nasty migraine.

———————————————————

 **Gatlinburg, Tennessee — August 24, 2010**

 **Maxine's POV**

The day had come and gone.

Paige had spent hours pacing, just anticipating Ray's arrival. When he hadn't returned by midnight, I had assumed he went home with a newfound friend. Ray was young and handsome to most. His scruff and greasy hair needed some TLC, but he was charismatic when he wanted to be.

There had been many occasions when my werewolf peer had stayed the night with a lady friend because he fancied her on that particular occasion. And lately, Ray had been feeling more than lonely.

At one point during the night, rather morning, sometime around two or three, Paige had left the tent. I had been awake as well. After all, it was impossible to sleep when all she did was talk about her brother.

 _"Where is Ray?"_

 _"What is Ray doing?"_

 _"When is Ray going to come back?"_

 _"Why is Ray not back yet?"_

 _"Who is Ray with?"_

The five Ws keep coming out of her mouth on repeat. They were the songs and her mouth was the damn record that just couldn't stop playing.

So, when she suddenly unzipped the tent, threw her shoes on, and began sprinting through the woods, it was no surprise that I was right behind her. I managed to talk Paige out of tracking her brother down. It wouldn't be hard to track his musk scent, but it wasn't necessary. He was, at the worst, probably just drunk and asleep at some bar.

Paige had followed me back to the tent as I repeated the same thing I'd been telling her for hours now.

"Ray is fine."

———————————————————

 **Tulley, Tennessee**

 **Niklaus' POV**

Laying on an abandoned pool table is a broken, beaten Ray Sutton.

The werewolf is positioned on his back, choking on blood and gasping for air. I circle around the rectangular, wooden table. I'm done playing games, toying with my food. I want to end this so that I can go transition the other werewolves in his pack into hybrids.

I sigh tersely. "Okay, it's a three-step process, Ray. This is step one. I want you to drink from my wrist," I instruct calmly, not demanding like before.

"I already to you where to find the pack," Ray replies, confused as to why I still tortured him when I was given what I asked for. And he was correct. Ray told me that the werewolves in his pack are stationed in Gatlinburg, up in the Great Smokey Mountains. He even provided me with the exact coordinates. "What more do you want from me?" he whispers desperately.

 _What more do I want? Well, what did I come here for?_

Hybrids.

"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying, Ray?" I rhetorically question. Before letting him answer, I bring the knife from my pocket to my side and hold it in his face. He recoils, frightened by the weapon's close proximity. This time, my calm facade slips and I growl, "I have great plans for you."

My hand lifts the knife to my opposing wrist and slices a clean, deep cut. The dark blood flows freely from my body. Painful pressure is felt as I shove the bleeding wound into Ray's mouth, force-feeding him. "He'll thank me for it later," I call out jovially to the bar patrons glancing in our direction. "There we go, attaboy!"

Seconds later, my hands release his head and I remove my wrist. I set the knife down on the table's surface. It has done its job. Ray coughs up more blood, mine mixing in with his own. The pathetic werewolf's head rises as far as his worn muscles allow. "What are you going to do now?"

"It's time for step two, Ray." Before he can react, I snap his neck and he falls limp where he lay. I look up from the temporarily deceased to greet Stefan who has just arrived. "You're back," I state rather obviously.

There is a noticeable look of aversion present on Stefan's face when he glances as Ray before he clears it to appear unemotional. He always tries to hide his feelings, to seem apathetic. He doesn't want me to understand or find his weaknesses, because he believes I'll exploit them. That I'll use the things that make him more human — like he prefers to be — against him. "Did you doubt me?" Stefan asks, beginning to walk in my direction.

Honestly, I answer him with, "Not for a second. I knew you'd pass the test. You still care for your brother, for your old life."

Stefan makes a noise of disagreement and turns away, walking over to an empty table. "I don't care about anything anymore." He sits down and I follow him to the table.

I didn't doubt Stefan when he said he would come back. Stefan is a soldier after all. He is a man true to his word, just like my noble brother Elijah. But I do doubt him when I hear those six words.

 _I don't care about anything anymore._

 _Liar_.

"You put on a good show, Stefan. I almost believe you. Let's hope, for your brother's sake, he does." I lean over his hunched shoulders, whispering, "You never stop caring about family, do you? But every time you feed, the blood makes it easier to let go."

Stefan stands abruptly, exiting the bar like a flame is hot on his heels. I let him leave, requiring time alone as well. The sound of games and drinking are drowned out by my melancholy thoughts.

 _Family_.

Maybe I'm not just trying to get inside his head, maybe I understand exactly what Stefan feels.

Maybe that is because long ago, I was just like Stefan.

I had a family that I cared enough about to want to protect. I had someone I was deeply in love with, something I now realize to have been infatuation. It was when I was lured to the darkness that all the things I loved, all the things I cared to keep safe, became nothing but a part of the past.

A past that held me down.

It was only when I had lost everyone that I realized the truth: I wasn't tempted into the darkness.

I was the darkness.


	4. CHAPTER ONE

**Gatlinburg, Tennessee**

 **Niklaus' POV**

Ray Sutton is dead.

The werewolf died at his small-time local bar, Southern Comfort in the early morning hours of Tuesday, August twenty-fourth, after a fatal snap of the neck.

A member of an unnamed werewolf pack, which the deceased co-lead with his sister, Paige, Ray was beloved among many humans and supernaturals alike throughout his life.

The sole survivor is his younger, sole sibling, Paige.

 _Though not for long_.

That is what I imagined the obituary of Ray Sutton to read as. Loved by many, just not enough to be remembered — especially when the only people that could remember will be dead within the hour.

I glance over at Stefan who is walking beside me in the dense forest, matching each stride step by step despite the seventy-eight-kilogram man hanging off of his two shoulders. Then again, Stefan has broad shoulders and defined muscles. He is a strong soldier, after all.

Of course, it helps that he is a vampire.

Whereas a normal man would have broken a sweat, taken a ten-minute break, or at the least began panting, Stefan made no noise of tire despite our, so far, two-hour-long hike up a humid mountain.

"You okay? Is Ray getting heavy?" I ask the vampire, more for idle chat than anything.

Broody as usual, Stefan hadn't initiated any conversation and kept his replies to a minimum. "I'm fine," Stefan says, huffing just a bit, almost unnoticeable to the average human.

I look over at him again. His lips are pulled back into a tense smile. One of those smiles you give pedestrians on the street to seem polite while hoping to avoid an exchange of actual words. "You sure about that? You know, we've been walking for quite some time now. If you need some water or a little sit-down," I prompt Stefan, knowing him well enough — though he'd prefer to not agree — to know he won't take the bait.

Stefan hums. "You know, I get that we're, uh we're stuck together, but if we could maybe just skip the chitchat, it'd be great."

I sigh. _Chitchat? Discourse? Does it all really matter when Stefan never wants to trade words with me?_ A rhetorical argument, substantive discussion, anything that would mean something, no. I sigh again. Stefan doesn't want to talk because he is afraid of getting comfortable, of becoming his old self. Stefan is the type of person to torture himself with what could have been and what-ifs.

 _What could have been of him and my sister? Of our friendship? What if we never met? What if he had never even become a vampire?_

A tad bit agitated that the vampire won't just humor me, I don't bother filtering my words when I say, "So much brooding. Your self-loathing is suffocating you, my friend."

"Maybe it's 'cause I'm a little tired of hunting werewolves. We've been at it all summer," Stefan throws back in my face.

I don't bother myself with Stefan's bad attitude much longer. Up ahead, just meters away, is where a bit of luck resides.

"Thanks to our pal Ray, we found ourselves a pack. There."

———————————————————

 **Maxine's POV**

Twenty-four hours.

Ray had left the campsite nearing the late afternoon yesterday. Night and morning had already passed without a sign of the jaded werewolf. It seems as if the skies above heard of Paige's agony and sympathized. There is no sun, just vast grey clouds.

Even I am willing to admit that something is wrong now. Ray had never stayed away from the pack for so long unless he was traveling far away. Even then, he always remained connected to us at all times. He has never been untraceable. Paige had wanted to sniff out his scent but the pack encouraged her otherwise. Everybody thought he'd turn up any minute now.

And he did.

The campfire from last night burned out, so we had gathered more firewood into a stacked pile and built cinder blocks around the circumference of our pit. That way the fire ash would be more controlled. Setting up the rest of the tents is our last job of the day. Paige and I are on our final one, a rather small-sized tent in comparison to the others when suddenly I hear a noise.

 _Ray?_

It smells like Ray. But there is an unfamiliar scent carried with him. Like musk and sandalwood. Like the burning fire I am so fascinated by. Immediately, something primal in my body becomes intrigued by the sensual scent.

 _Werewolf_.

Turning to Paige and raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, I ask, "What the hell is that?" Paige doesn't grace my question with a verbal answer, just shakes her head, not daring to remove her eyes from her task.

 _Does she not smell the werewolf? Does she not smell her brother?_

She doesn't even appear interested.

My fictional werewolf ears perk, head raising in alert as I chance a look behind my back, watching two men walk into the clearing. One, tall with blonde, curly hair, the other an almost unnoticeable inch shorter with light brown, straight hair. Each have menacing eyes and lean bodies.

But the one thing that stops my brain is what appears to be an unconscious Ray slung over the shoulder of the brunette man. Unease is the immediate response I feel when my strong nose picks up on their scent.

 _Vampires_.

At least one of these men is part of the undead, the other a werewolf. My nose doesn't betray me.

 _But which one could it be?_

Daring to take my eyes away from the new men, I see trepidation on everybody's face, just like I am sure is on mine. Paige has finally stopped threading the metal rod through the fabric of the tent. Nobody moves. We all wait for our intruders to strike first.

The shorter, more serious one advances further into the clearing before unceremoniously dropping Ray's limp body onto the ground.

I don't even have time to stop Paige before she leaves her stance beside me without a second thought to go tend to her brother. As her anxious hands go to his bloody head and chest, I realize the Ray I know is dead. "Ray! Oh my God. What's going on?" she mutters in fear, clearly misunderstanding what is happening. Turning to the man that previously held Ray, she brazenly demands, "Who are you?"

The taller of the two men steps forward, drawing everyone's attention. "The important question is, who am I?" he states, voice deep with a rough, British accent. He glances behind Paige at the pack. "Please, forgive the intrusion. My name is Klaus."

 _The hybrid_.

We had all heard about him from here or there. He is _the_ infamous Original-vampire-newly-turned-werewolf. The only one of his kind. He must be the enticing werewolf I had smelled. I am certainly intrigued.

Paige steps back near the comfort of Derek. "You're the hybrid," she says, voice shaking, betraying her fear.

Smiling, Klaus replies, "You've heard of me. _Fantastic_." The hybrid makes his way over to the wide tree stump in front of all of us and sits down, the other man following suit.

 _Was he a vampire as well?_

Without care, Klaus begins speaking. "It's fascinating, actually: A werewolf who isn't beholden to the moon, a vampire who doesn't burn in the sun... A true hybrid."

 _Talk about conceited._

Suddenly alive and gasping for air, Ray pushes himself onto his elbows and becomes the new center of attention. Paige lets out a sigh. Ray isn't dead after all.

" _Excellent_ timing Ray. Very dramatic," Klaus praises mockingly.

"What's happening to me," Ray skittishly asks while glancing around at everyone. He is completely confused. Question is: what the hell _is_ going on?

The hybrid turns to the other man who is sitting beside him. "Stefan?" Klaus asks, prompting the man to explain the situation.

 _Stefan. The name sounds familiar._

Stefan nods his head in agreement and stands up. "Are any of you human? Your friend here, he needs human blood to complete his transition into a vampire," he says, gesturing to Ray. "If he doesn't get it, he _will die_."

My eyes watch with rapid attention as Klaus examines us, discerning who is and is not of the supernatural. Stefan copies, though his head doesn't follow where his narrowed eyes stray.

 _Paige_.

I feel the nervous energy wafting from her body. A sinking feeling deep in my gut tells me that Stefan and Klaus know exactly who is the human here. After all, vampires have exceptional instincts.

When nobody volunteers or willingly exposes Derek, Klaus stands up. "It doesn't take much. _Just a sip_ ," Klaus persuades even further.

The vampires are playing us, that much is obvious. The near twenty of us in our human forms against two vampires? We are no match. Everyone here knows exactly who the human is — Derek. I'm positive his heartbeat had doubled the normal rate.

 _How has it not burst out of his chest by now, or died from over-excursion?_

"A boyfriend, a girlfriend, along for the ride." Klaus' eyes pointedly hone in on Derek. "You," the vampire declares. He uses his supernatural speed to snatch Derek from Paige's side, sink his sharp teeth into his arm, and throw him to Stefan, all in a matter of seconds. Stefan grabs Derek and carelessly pushes the injured man to the wolves — literally.

"No!" Paige screams, launching herself at Klaus. She isn't fast enough to stop him. None of us are. Klaus grabs her throat in one punishing hand, lifting her body off of the ground with extraordinary strength.

When satisfied with her inability to escape his captivity, Klaus turns to watch his sidekick, giving Paige a front-row view of the torture performed on her brother and boyfriend.

Ray's werewolf urges won't allow him to be prevented from sniffing out the bloody human. His cerebral side, the part of him that was not carnal, holds him back, preventing him from eating his friend.

But that doesn't mean Ray isn't struggling. And it doesn't help when Stefan leans down to his level to thrust Derek's bloody arm in his direction, saying, "You don't drink it, Ray, I will. Problem is... I don't know how to stop."

With how hungry Stefan's voice is, I don't doubt that.

Ray stares at the oozing, red liquid, transfixed. His eyes become impossibly darker. I know there is no sacrifice that can rescue him now.

Klaus turns back to Paige and looks her in the eyes, matter-of-factly stating, "It's the new order, sweetheart. Join us or die."

 _Absolution_.

I can feel the indecision vanish from my body. No longer will I feel guilt or obligation for not protecting these people. I need to protect myself. It is a kill or be killed world. Survival of the fittest and to me, Klaus and Stefan just seem to be another synonym for natural selection. There is nobody that can save us.

Nobody that can save me.

Paige, who is just about as stubborn as I am, responds with venom in her voice, "I'd rather die than be a vampire." Unbothered by her reluctance, Klaus simply informs her that she made the wrong choice before shoving his blood in her mouth and snapping her neck.

"She'll thank me later," Klaus concludes as he drops Paige's dead body to the ground. He licks the blood off his fingertips, a drop clinging to his bottom lip. His face begins to transition — eyes becoming golden with veins appearing underneath, teeth elongating and sharpening.

 _A true hybrid_.

Klaus glances back up and exposes a brief, primal smile. "Okay, who's next?" He doesn't wait for an answer before attacking the next person closest to him. I watch in horrid fascination as Klaus feeds people blood and Stefan kills them. People always say you either have a fight or flight instinct, but they never mention frozen. I don't fight Klaus or Stefan off and I don't run away; I just stand there unable to move a muscle.

Then again, it isn't like they are shoving blood down my throat and snapping my neck.

Blood coats the thick ground like a heavy blanket. Every few seconds, there is a sickening snap heard. The massacre only lasts a mere five or so minutes but is savage and brutal.

Klaus spares no time for waiting. He finishes force-feeding every werewolf his blood and moves on to Derek, healing his unsanitary wound so that he has enough blood for the next hungry fledgling. "There, good as new. Now you relax, okay, mate? We're going to need you when the rest of them wake up," the hybrid compels Derek into a state of calm.

Standing up from his crouched position with blood dripping from his fingertips, Klaus glances around. Only now do I realize my mistake. I should have run away when I might have had the chance. Klaus and Stefan have unintentionally skipped over my hidden body. There was so much noise, so many people.

I could have made it.

I could have escaped.

 _Now?_ Now, I don't stand a chance.

The hybrid's eyes meet mine across the sea of murdered bodies, all innocently slain. I'm not so concealed behind the tree as I was before. Nobody stands in my way, protecting me. I feel my fighter instincts eventually kick in, only five minutes too late. The hybrid's lips turn up, slightly amused, slightly angry. But his eyes hold something else, something sinister.

 _Retribution_.

Even knowing I'm not going to escape, there is always that ingrained urge in my mind, the one that says, " _If I am going to die, then I am going to die fighting!_ "

My feet have only made it two steps before Klaus has run over to me. He stands so close that I can see the stubble peeking through on his jaw. So close that his scent envelopes me. So close that I can reach out and touch him.

 _So close that I can hear him breathe._

"Well, what do we have here?" Klaus teases, beginning to circle me dangerously. I feel his hot breath skim my ear. "How did I skip over a little kitten like you?" Klaus pulls away and walks back in front of me. I feel his eyes tortuously rake over my body. "A witch," he declares, holding a finger up, then saying, "Not only that, a werewolf." Klaus smirks, purring, "It seems as if you're a hybrid of your own, love."

Frightful tears pool in my eyes involuntarily. My stubborn pride holds them from spilling over the rim of my eyelashes, but it can't erase what Klaus has already seen. The more I step away, the closer he comes. His big strides bring him closer than mine can take me apart.

 _One step forward and two steps back? More like one step back and two forward._

It isn't hard to capture your prey when they don't even put up a fight, though I am sure Klaus would have caught me regardless of struggling.

With one unfamiliar arm suddenly slung around my chest and the other tight around my throat, my breathing becomes restricted. It isn't even possible to beg him to release me because I don't have enough airflow in my lungs.

Klaus leans my head back as far as it can go, but I am too short compared to his tall stance to even have my head situated on his shoulder. I feel him lean down to my ear and begin whispering so softly that I am almost unable to hear it over the sound of my accelerating heartbeat. "Now, tell me why I shouldn't snap your little neck right now?" he questions with the addition of a squeeze to said neck.

I feel the hot burn of air deprivation turn my face red. Black dots spot my once-clear vision and I blink rapidly in my lashes' vain attempt to sweep them away. He loosens his constricting grip but never removes his hand fully.

I cough once the pressure around my neck is partially released. Able to breathe, my lungs greedily heave until the burn inside my chest fades. Needing something to cling to, something to ground me to earth, my hands wrap around the arm of my captor.

"Sweetheart, you still haven't answered my question. Why shouldn't I snap your neck, hmm?" Klaus repeats.

 _Why shouldn't Klaus kill me?_

My life doesn't belong to anyone but myself. With no family, no friends, nobody to love, I truly live a life of pathetic solace. There is no experience worth fighting for. _If I died now, would it matter that I never saw anything beyond the United States? Would it matter if I never fell in a whirlwind, heart-stopping romance with the most unfit man imaginable? Would it matter if I never met my biological parents?_

 _Would it matter if I died today?_

 _No. No, it wouldn't._

My limbs fall limply at my sides, no longer concerned to escape. Through mind-coaching, my labored breathing slows to its regular rate. Shameful tears form in the wake of my melancholy revelation.

 _Nobody would miss me._

"You should," my mouth whispers, knowing the hybrid's sharp ears would hear the soft cry. There was a moment of stillness. His hands slacken completely but I don't dare move. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I still feel the weight of his warm breath on my neck, punishing the caged wolf inside. His feet pace behind my back. Something about my answer makes him rethink everything.

 _Predictable_.

That is what he thought when he had seen me. That is what everybody expects of me. Klaus thought I was going to beg for my life, tell him that I'd do anything if he'd spare me.

 _Mercy?_

Klaus Mikaelson has never heard of the word. The two-syllable, five-lettered utterance was taboo in his family. They don't know the meaning of it, let alone how to express it.

No, Klaus Mikaelson wanted to toy with me. Instead, I unintentionally toyed with him right back.

 _To ask for death?_

I won't be gifted the thing I longed for. Suffering is what men like Klaus Mikaelson thrived on, what they fucked life with. My punishment won't come in the form of a snapped neck or extracted, still-beating heart.

 _No, I am going to be forced to live._

I feel him before I hear him. Klaus' hands wrap around my waist and lift my body from the ground. I'm thrown over one broad, stiff shoulder. Vertigo brings nauseous pre-vomit saliva to my mouth, sour when coupled with stomach acid.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing? Put me down," I demand, though the words were expelled from my mouth as broken whimpers rather than strong orders. Klaus graces me with no response.

 _Not that I expected the unbothered hybrid to._

"Did you hear me," I continue, despite the queasiness brought along with it. My fists brazenly punch the hybrid's muscled back. When I feel him jerk against the contact, I do it again. The hits are far from painful, but I know they grab his attention, despite the lack of it he is willing to dole out. "Let me go—oh!"

Klaus suddenly hunches over and my body drops, landing on the solid tree stump below. No amount of his previous playfulness lingers in his eyes as he leans his face uncomfortably close to my own. All that resides his deep blue irises is malicious spite. Bitter impatience.

"I suggest remaining down here or there will be harsh consequences, love," Klaus growls.

My hot-tempered wolf peaks, refusing to back down from a challenge. I push my face closer to the hybrid's, provoking with restored unwavering confidence, "I'm not scared of you."

"I would advise against speaking unless permitted."

"Fuck. You," I spit at his rueful grin. He pounces, hands meeting my arms in a bruising grasp. He intends to pull me up, but the pitiful sound of shocked mourning renders Klaus benevolent for the moment.

Done with his feeding, Ray has curled into himself. His arms are wrapped defensively over his abdomen. Protection. He has protected himself the only way he is allowed to. His bottom rocks his shaking body to and fro while his bloodshot eyes glare at the sea of dead bodies.

 _Friends. Family_.

Unlike me, Ray Sutton had something to lose. He watched death through black-tinted glasses.

 _Despair. Consternation. Disorientation._

He'd fed himself the blood of his companion, someone who had confidently believed he wouldn't be harmed at the hands of the werewolf. He had obligatorily watched his pack be slain by two madmen. He had the displeasure of knowing that the bloodshed of his loved ones stained his hands.

Ray may not have snapped the neck of his family, but he put the strength in the hands of the men who did.

"They're dead... They're all dead," the newly transitioned hybrid whimpers in distress. Klaus carelessly drops my arm, uninterested now. He walks over to Ray, glancing down to examine his bloody face.

Given the chance to study the Original, I watch his mouth set into a relieved, straight line. His hands are covered in blood. His blood. Each of his pale wrists had been ripped open by his jagged teeth to feed the werewolves and Derek, who had dried blood surrounding their lips in a messy smear. His pearl-white skin is unblemished. He has delicate but masculine features, unlike many of his age in this day and time. He was born long ago if I am to go off of his unusual nose, which simply isn't aristocratic enough. He is unduly foreign to be ordinary.

Klaus sighs almost inaudibly and announces, "Well, he's through his transition. He should be feeling better soon."

Yes, physically Ray should feel more than okay. Mentally, he'll be traumatized for life. _But what's greedy fulfillment without a little_ _pain?_

The vampire, Stefan, had long ago finished with snapping the neck of the last werewolf. "So this is your master plan? To build an army of hybrid slaves?"

 _Patronizing, what a deceitful shade of humor it was._

"No, not slaves," Klaus contradicts, partially offended by the offhand insult. His casual tone conveys an unmistakable warning to never utter that word again. "Soldiers, comrades," he corrects.

Stefan's interest is piqued further. "For what war, might I ask," he inquires.

Between the two of them, Ray sputters and shivers, completely ignored by the unfazed men. I inwardly scoff. _Were they just disinterested or simply bad with priorities?_

Klaus raises one thick eyebrow and provides his _comrade_ with a small grin, happy to take on the role of a teacher. "You don't arm yourself after the war has been declared, Stefan. You build your army _so_ _big_ that no one ever dares pick the fight," the hybrid divulges.

 _So this was what Klaus was doing? Turning everybody just to build an army, an army that doesn't have a war worth fighting in?_

"What makes you so sure that they'll be loyal?" Stefan opposes.

Pompous and boastful are two words I am beginning to associate with Klaus Mikaelson the more he spoke.

"Well, it's not difficult to be loyal when you're on the winning team," the arrogant man gloats. "That's something you'll learn once you shake that horribly depressive chip off your shoulder," he jeers.

A laugh ensues from the vampire. Through the grunts spilling from Ray, he speaks. "That's why you're keeping me around? To witness my attitude adjustment?" Klaus pays no attention to Stefan and his amusement. No, he is more interested in the blood that falls from Ray's swollen eyes.

I run the few feet to Ray, intending to aid him, but Klaus steps in front of my path, blocking me from getting to the ill, newly-turned hybrid. "What did I tell you? Go sit back down," he growls.

"No." I raise my chin defiantly, firm in my ability to refrain from his orders. "You can't make me do anything," I mutter, more of an afterthought than an argument. Klaus takes an intimidating step closer.

Through his gagging and sputtering, Ray manages to croak, "Maxine. Please, listen." Another coughing fit is brought about and to keep Ray's worries to a minimum, I clench my fists and comply.

Klaus crouches down to Ray's height and grabs a rough hold of his face, inspecting the seeming anomaly amount of blood. "You'll know," Klaus began, sparing a wide-eyed glance at Stefan before continuing, "why I'm keeping you around when I've decided that I want you to know."

 _So he was listening_.

"Somethings wrong," Klaus states a hairsbreadth of time later. He pulls his prying hands away and Stefan steps closer, crouching down to examine the blood under Ray's eyes as well.

The two men share a perplexed expression, eyes narrowed with bewilderment.

" _What could possibly be happening to the werewolf? Why is he bleeding out of his eyes? What did we do wrong?_ " their eyes say.

"Hmm," Stefan hums pensively, asking, "That shouldn't be happening, should it?"

 _He doesn't seem too sorry that it is, though._

"Well _obviously_ ," Klaus sneers, lacking his — what I'm learning to be — usual swift bite. No inhibition, complete candor — that is what Klaus embodied. Klaus' patronizing ways may not have eluded him completely, but he is far too concerned with failed plans to grace his friend with anything more than the lackluster two-word response.

"What the hell did you do to him?" I hear a broken voice whisper, laced with venom and unshed tears. Klaus and Stefan turned around to me upon hearing the noise as well. Only now do I realize that the words had come from my mouth. The tears had spilled from my eyes. The anger had come from me.

 _Directed at Klaus._

 _For Ray._

Goddamn me, but I am fucking terrified. The more I stare at the blood that rapidly flows from Ray's shifty eyes, the more I realize that I can't protect him. Hell, I can't protect myself. I can't stop Klaus and his unwilling sidekick.

I'm terrified because for once, I'm giving a damn. For once, someone — Klaus — has broken through my tough exterior, forcing the scared, little girl that cowered underneath to be seen.

And she doesn't like it.

With a deadly glare, one I was becoming more than accustomed to seeing from the hybrid, Klaus spoke, voice lethal with restrained fury, "Max — it is Max, right?" He didn't wait for an answer — not that I was prepared to supply him with one anyway. "Well, _Max_ , I will say this once more and only once more. If you refuse to listen to me, there _will_ be glaring consequences for you."

 _Max_.

I don't like the way he said my name.

 _Max_ , like a snake. _Max_ , like thunder. _Max_ , like a demand for submission.

Klaus had forced the three-letter word from his mouth, none the pleased to be putting a name to the disobedient wolf. To be personifying me. Before, I was just another no-name face in a sea of no-name faces. Now, now he had something to relate to me. Every time he would hear the name Max, he'd think of me. He'd see my slightly-too-wide blue eyes and sun-basked hair. He'd imagine how pale my skin is and how defiant my soft-spoken yet hard-toned voice is.

He'd see me.

He'd hear me.

He'd be reminded of me.

I'd unintentionally made a permanent imprint on the hybrid.

Again, Ray's pleading eyes pierce through my stubborn determination, this time no words are forced out of his mouth. But I don't need words. The tears speak enough volumes. Begrudgingly, I slump back onto the tree stump and observe.

"You said it was going to feel better. Why doesn't it feel better," Ray accuses, looking up at Klaus with harsh, unforgiving eyes. Eyes much different than what I'd seen focused on me moments prior.

"Some master race," I mutter, snorting at the nasty predicament Klaus had forced himself in.

It must suck to be such a jerk, getting what you deserve and all that.

But it must really suck to be used as a test experiment, suffering because of the opportune time and place you happened to have been in.

I feel Klaus' quick eyes on me after my snide remark is out in the air. "Lose the attitude," he snaps, not bothering to put any real demand behind it. No, Klaus doesn't need to be demanding to instill fear inside someone's mind. But I am sure he has realized by now that demanding or not, he isn't getting through to me.

Suddenly, Paige springs to attention, much in the same fashion her brother had. Klaus' blood had dried, caking and breaking off in a thin line from the corner of her mouth down to the hairline at the nape of her neck.

"Derek, come feed your girlfriend." Obediently, Derek stands by Klaus' side, just as Klaus had compelled him to do. Klaus takes hold of Derek's bloody, skin-ripped arm for Paige.

At the sight and smell of Derek's alluring blood, Ray panics. Not wishing to divulge into his unwelcome impulses again, Ray runs. He jumps over rocks and logs and everything in his path before Klaus or Stefan can stop him.

I never realized how much I underestimated Ray until now.

Like an acquiescent little puppy, Stefan looks to Klaus for his next order. Unsurprisingly, Klaus tells his vampire to go retrieve Ray. Stefan takes off and Klaus drops Derek's arm, which Paige hungrily runs to, beginning her transition.

Klaus' eyes meet mine from just a few feet away, trapping me in his gaze. " _Don't_ move a muscle." Klaus walks away, taking the unworn path Ray and Stefan had trailed through. I bet if he could have compelled me, he would have.

I patiently do as I am told until Klaus is out of my view and me out of his. Careful to not make any noise, I step over Paige and Derek, following an unknowing Klaus. As I near a large boulder, I hear Klaus and Stefan conversing, heavy tension palpable.

"Where did he go?" I hear Klaus ask Stefan, referring to Ray.

I peeked around the rock to watch as Stefan quickly turns around. "He, uh — he got away. Forget him, let's go."

With his trademark smirk, Klaus grabs Stefan's arm. "Fatal werewolf bite. Ouch."

 _Ray: one. Bad Guys: zero_.

Although unable to see the gnarly bite, I am sure it is just that — gnarly. Props to the frightened hybrid for taking a chunk out of the vampire.

Stefan glances down at the bite rather casually, almost as if having a fatal wound was just a daily torture he endured. Though, with him being around Klaus, I am sure it is."Yeah, I'm going to need your blood to heal me," Stefan states rather obviously.

 _Did Klaus' blood have more healing properties than the everyday vampire? Could his blood heal a bite from a werewolf?_

"Well, I'll tell you what: you find Ray and then I'll heal you," Klaus proposes, that satisfied smirk never leaving his face.

"You can't be serious," Stefan scoffs, appalled that Klaus would give him such a request, such an ultimatum.

 _Find my hybrid or die._

Done with the conversation, Klaus simply replies, "You better hurry. That bite looks nasty." He walks away, leaving Stefan to make the decision for himself.

My time for eavesdropping is over. I back away, making sure to keep my eyes trained on Klaus.

 _One._

 _Two._

 _Three feet._

Declaring myself a safe enough distance away, I turn around, bumping into a rather familiar wall.

 _Klaus_.

He isn't easy to fool, I'll give him that.

Klaus shakes his head in disappointment. "Tsk, tsk," he tuts mockingly. "I believe it's time I show you what happens when you make me mad, darling," he declares, voice laced with barely restrained anger.

Klaus is infuriated, yes, I know that. But... Klaus' eyes gleam with a sinister hunger. He had hoped for my disobedience, for my punishment. Klaus liked theatrics, grand arguing.

He is more than excited to put on a show.

Even if there isn't an audience.

Hands push my body into a jagged tree. A body traps mine against the bark, holding me in place. Soft lips press against my jumping pulse, opening wide enough for a wet tongue to slip out and lick the hot skin underneath, rendering my body immobile. Fangs abruptly split through veins and greedily drink their fill of blood.

But they aren't satisfied.

They bite down further, extracting more than a whimper from my parted lips.

A moan.

I writhe in pleasure. In indescribable, confusing pleasure. Pleasure brought about by pain.

The fangs are ripped away. A trail of blood follows down my neck in their wake but are wiped away before staining my skin by that soft tongue.

It is over all too soon.

My body stops thrumming with that energized pull and all too late do I feel my body lean back into a much taller, harder one.

I jump away and Klaus allows me to leave. He'd already punished me for my actions. He'd already traumatized my psyche. Running away from him was just another form of amusement.

I stare long and hard at the hybrid and unflinchingly, he stares right back.

"Go to hell," I growl, provoked by his invasive deed.

"Ah..." Klaus smiles, genuinely entertained. "I guess I won't have to heal you then," he mutters, unaffected by my harsh words.

Klaus walks away, a self-satisfied grin appearing on his face as he sees the awakening of new hybrids. He doesn't bother ordering me to stay. No, this time he knows he doesn't have anything to worry about.

I won't leave.


	5. CHAPTER TWO

**Niklaus' POV**

A werewolf. A witch.

A hybrid.

That Maxine, I have great plans in store for her. The stubborn wolf will make a fine tribrid one day. _Tribrid_. Yes, the first. There has to be a way to prevent her from losing her magic. Oh, I knew I liked the feisty girl for some reason. Only a couple of hours in her presence and she is already one-upping me at my own game.

 _Well played, sweetheart_.

I should have felt a tug of jealousy for her ultimate future. For she will be the truest, most pure supernatural entity to exist. A witch, werewolf, and vampire all in one. She'll hold all the power. But it is not envy that burns through my veins, for I am proud of what I will arm her with. I am proud of the woman I will mold her to be. It is her. She will be one of my greatest achievements.

I can't wait for the day that the wolf will stand on the battlefield as my soldier. She will have more magic than I could ever dream and with her by my side, my arsenal will be more powerful than ever.

Trailing casually through the woods, Max's sweet orange-lemon scent still tugs my feet closer in her direction. She doesn't smell like a breath of fresh air, more like a gasp of seduction. She is dark and alluring, the dessert you know you always regret eating but can't stop yourself from devouring every bite and licking the plate squeaky clean.

She is sinfulness on its worst behavior.

I decided some time ago to leave Max for a slip of time to collect my rampant thoughts. There is no need to be worried about her leaving for she is far too weak from blood loss. The little blonde is quite an angry pup, a little spitfire to say the least. It is such a sudden, odd feeling to be drawn to a woman I just met. I'm not very familiar with how to adapt to the rapid change.

My keen ears hear my hybrids waking up from meters away. One by one they gasp for their first breath and then groan with dire hunger the next. Despite the conundrum I now faced with Ray, I hope the others will turn successfully without any hitches.

I _need_ success.

Checking my wrist's nonexistent watch, I conclude that I should turn around and walk back the way I came. The sky turns a dark blue as I follow the worn pathway, signaling fast-approaching nightfall. Upon reentering the clearing, I see that the new hybrids are all awake. Derek stands off to the side just as I had compelled him to. His eyes are bloodshot but devoid of any pain. His body is exhausted but unable to fall.

With only a few measly pints to keep his body standing, the human is of no use to me any longer. I trail over to the robotic man and bring him close to the bright fire which had been lit in my absence. His wet eyes become transfixed by the amber flames. "Bad news my friend," I say, pausing to turn him to face me before continuing, "end of the road for you." My jaws rip his jugular from his body and let him simply fall to the ground, dead.

The defiant, newly turned hybrid whose boyfriend I just killed lazily hobbles over to me, a crazed expression in her wide but dull eyes. Oh, how adorable. Did I hurt her feelings by killing the love of her life? "Careful, love," I warn. "Only one alpha here." When the girl walks nearer to the fire, the hot light illuminates her features, bringing her bloody tears to my sight.

A glance behind her shoulder reveals more hybrids with trails of blood running down from their eyes. I turn. Blood. Blood. _Blood_. Out of their mouths, out of their eyes.

 _Blood_.

"Bloody hell," the curse slips from my lips, more ironic than intended.

Paige's heart is ripped from her chest by my hand. The rabid hybrid falls to the ground and her companions follow, each one a little easier to exterminate than the last.

———————————————————

 **Maxine's POV**

Dead.

 _Dead_.

 _Paige?_ Dead.

 _Derek?_ Dead.

 _Everyone?_ Dead.

Just as savagely as before, the pack is killed. This time by Klaus. This time with their heart ripped from their chest.

In the hour that Klaus was gone, I had laid on the tree stump, immobile and in immense pain from his bite. It burned like poison and every wave of wind that flew through the air brought about a flare of icy-hot stinging.

Nobody had touched me, despite my exposed blood tainting the air. _Is it because I am a wolf?_

Where my body still sits horizontally, I look on at the fallen hybrids, sympathizing for the loss of their lives and becoming envious that they had managed to escape their torture.

The always-patronizing voice of Klaus Mikaelson becomes soft like the night's summer air when he sits by my side after his brutal slaying. "Max, are you okay, sweetheart?"

"What the hell did you do to me," I demand. My voice shakes with implanted fear. Before, Maxine Mitchell would never give a second thought to demanding something from Klaus Mikaelson. Now, she hesitates to so much as glance in his general direction.

Klaus' head hovers above my own. "Calm down," he consoles gently. I feel his arm slide under my back and the adjoined hand go to cradle my head before lifting so that I sit up. While supporting my debilitated body, he bites into his soft skin and offers his wrist up to my lips. "Drink."

My heavy head shakes — or tries to — to decline his offer. "No," I manage to croak, though I feel my eyelids begin to close, exhaustion taking over. "No. I don't want to."

Klaus presses his wrist even harder against my lips, forcing the rapidly falling blood to enter my mouth. Each drop of the hot liquid brings me strength. Before, I had simply let the blood drip into my mouth as I was too weak to push him away, but a taste of it and I am now willingly latching on like a babe to its mother's breast.

The pain never subsides. The bite never heals. But I continuously drink the blood from Klaus until he pulls away. "Why am I not healed?" I whisper fearfully, afraid to anger him further. I watch Klaus' eyes narrow in confusion. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out to graze over the dried blood and torn flesh on the side of my neck. I wince in pain but hold my cries inside. His soft fingers send a spark of electricity through my body. Where his warm breath touches my skin, the little hairs on my body tingle and raise to attention. He is confused, that much is clear in the touch of his fingers. They are exploratory but shake with uncertainty.

He pulls away. "I don't know," he mutters a little too quietly to have done it on purpose. It could have been seconds or it could have been minutes that the hybrid and I sit together without a word. He is very still, yet I know his mind is working in rapid overdrive.

"What are you thinking?" I ask him, surprising myself and even him. Something about his troubled eyes and deep frown makes me more uncomfortable than when he was torturing people with a deranged smile.

Klaus doesn't answer me right away and maybe that is because he doesn't know what is upsetting him in the first place. He finally adjusts his body to face toward mine. "I think you're the first person to not be afraid to tell me what they really think, to tell me the truth."

I wanted to question him, ask just what he meant by _truth_ , by not being afraid, but something deep inside me says that I'm not going to receive an answer, that I'll just have to wait until he tells me himself.

I'll have to wait until Klaus will be ready to tell me.

"I am sorry about the bite, love," Klaus suddenly tells me, though I'm doubtful of the genuineness behind his apology.

I send him a glare, one I am sure he'll recognize by now. "I don't need your colloquial pity," I sneer. "You killed my pack." Although not my pack, _people-I-live-with-for-experience-and-information-but-don't-really-like_ is quite a mouthful.

"I wasn't offering," he snaps right back. "But don't worry, you won't be alone for any longer. You'll be coming with me."

He must be out of his hybrid mind if he thinks I'd willingly go anywhere with him."Yeah... _no thanks_ , " I quickly shoot down.

He smiles one of those amused smiles, tilts his head toward me, and replies, "Again, I wasn't offering or asking. You're coming with me because I told you to."

"And why would I do that?"

Klaus leans over and grabs an abandoned beer bottle from the ground. He takes a long, probably much-needed swig before providing me with his undivided attention again. "Because, love, unless you want that bite to get worse than it already is, you might want to get yourself fixed up."

He leans away from me, leaving me to contemplate over his words, knowing the decision isn't mine to make at all.

Now, we wait.

———————————————————

 **Niklaus' POV**

There is a bit of time between life and death where you wonder if you'll miss anything.

 _What will I miss?_

Well, when I had died as a measly human, really an untapped witch who unknowingly carried the werewolf gene, I believed I would miss my once-thought-to-be true love, Tatia. I thought I would miss the fields I ran through as a young boy, the ones I had taken long, thoughtful walks on as a man. I thought I would miss damaging rain and burning sunlight.

I thought I would miss _life_.

Then again, I hadn't known I would be waking up hours later. I thought my death was permanent.

Waking up alongside my siblings in the dark of the night, running towards Rebekah's side, and being fed the blood of an innocent girl... The things I thought I would miss later became things I didn't really care much for at all. Tatia had chosen Elijah before our transformation but was brutally murdered soon after. I no longer experienced the pain of a hot sunny day and while I had lost the magic I never tapped into, it was no matter. It was Mikael, my father, that became more of an unhinged dictator than before.

I never once connected Mikael with missing someone. In fact, that was the only thing that brought me joy when I died.

A part of me thought my father had once cared for me, but with vampirism came heightened emotions. Where he had been pugnacious before, he was now vicious and unmanageable. After discovering of my mother's adultery, the tides turned even more against me.

It was the darkest time of my life.

My mother was scared of me, my father hated me, my siblings avoided me, my neighbors ran at the sight of me.

There was nothing left to live for.

I chuckle cynically to myself. _Oh how far I have come._

I am pulled away from my sorrowful thoughts by the sound of footsteps. Looking up from my third beer bottle, I see Stefan approaching, a dead Ray Sutton once again slung over his shoulders.

 _Great. Another failure_.

Stefan carelessly allows Ray's limp body to thump onto the ground. His eyes ta a sweep of the clearing before finally turning his attention to me. He cradles his arm where the painful bite resides. Without a verbal question from the vampire, I answer what I know he wants to ask, "They all went rabid. Some of them I killed. The others just... bled out." I stand, my mind stuck in a daze. "In the end, they're all dead," I pathetically state, this time out loud. This time, saying the words so that my ears can hear. This time, they are real. I throw the half-drunken bottle of beer to the ground and scream viciously, "I did everything I was told. I should be able to turn them. I broke the curse, I killed a werewolf, I killed a vampire, I killed the doppelgänger."

 _I killed the doppelgänger, right?_ My skeptical eyes turn to Stefan. _Surely he wouldn't be able out-smart me?_ I know how much devoted love he has for his precious human, Elena. But a fake death? Impossible. Of course Elena Gilbert is dead. I sucked all of the blood from her body.

Dispelling the ridiculous doubts, I ground my mind back to the present and take another good look at the sick Stefan Salvatore. "You look like hell."

Stefan nods a little in agreement. "Last I checked, I'm dying," he says, pausing to emphasize his point by shoving his infected arm into my view, then continues, "and you don't want to help me."

The vampire and I each glance at Ray's dead body. His return is part of the agreement: Ray in exchange for my healing blood.

"I had to take him out, I didn't have a choice," Stefan justifies himself, voice becoming breathless. He takes a few steps closer. "I failed you. I'm sorry. Do what you have to do."

 _A deal's a deal._

———————————————————

 **Maxine's POV**

Ray has been returned and to the surprise of nobody, he is dead. Something had gone wrong. Either that or Klaus just isn't destined to create hybrids such as himself. Maybe he is the exception and everybody else isn't up to par.

"It should have worked," Klaus voices his thoughts out loud once again, pulling me out of mine. His hybrid face is on display and I stare, captivated. Yellow eyes illuminated in the moonlight and fangs lengthened to sharp daggers. He bites into his hand and picks an empty beer bottle up off of the ground. Holding up his open would over the glass, he lets the blood droplets flow through the narrow neck and sink to the bottom. Once sure there is enough, he pulls away and holds the bottle out to Stefan.

"Bottoms up."

Stefan hesitantly grabs the beer bottle from Klaus' hand. Klaus turns around, calling out to the vampire over his shoulder, "We're leaving." He comes over to me and picks my immobile body up. Sleep invades my mind, though my eyes strain to remain open. Wrapping my legs around his waist and arms around his neck, Klaus takes one last longing glance at the sea of failed hybrids and proclaims, "It appears you two are the only comrades I have left." He turns his back on Stefan and begins walking the trail back down the hill. "Sleep, love. We'll be on the road soon."

Finally stopping the battle with my consciousness, I let myself fall into the abyss of darkness.

———————————————————

 **Chicago, Illinois — August 25, 2010**

The sound of the grainy radio is what awakens me out of a dreamless sleep. Some overly upbeat song I have most likely heard before plays softly through the car speakers, more for idle background noise than to actually enjoy the tune. Unnoticed by my captors, I take this chance to scope out my surroundings. I am in a van. My eyes notice Stefan in the passenger seat, which means that Klaus must be behind the wheel. I am in the backseat lying down. Somewhere between the campsite and here, I must have fallen asleep. Outside of the car, there are bright lights and all kinds of cars surrounding us. We definitely aren't anywhere near those mountains anymore.

 _How long was I out?_

The dimly lit sky that I see tells me it is early morning.

I make no notion of my consciousness, deciding to pretend to still be asleep. Every few minutes, my eyes glance through the darkened windows. After approximately twenty rather short minutes, I see us approaching a large warehouse before pulling inside. "Welcome to Chicago, Stefan," Klaus' voice finally announces. Somewhere between last night and what is ultimately this early morning, I'd forgotten the severity of his rumbling voice on my psyche. Klaus turns around to me and rather politely says more than orders, "Stay in the car, sweetheart."

 _Well, so much for them not knowing I'm awake._

Without a reply from me, Klaus parks the car — what I assume is some time of SUV — and takes the keys from the ignition. He opens his side door and leaves the car, Stefan following closely behind. With better clarity than I had hours before, I push myself up to watch them from behind the window. Just because I have to stay in the car doesn't mean I can't eavesdrop.

"What are we doing here?" I hear Stefan ask as Klaus opens a door to reveal a view of the city on the other side. Headlights from a semi-trailer truck shine into the warehouse, illuminating the outlines of the two men.

"I know how much you loved it here," Klaus replies a hairsbreadth of time later. "Bringing back memories of the good ol' ripper days."

 _Reminiscing. It is the worst kind of torture._

I don't know what Klaus means by the term 'ripper', but Stefan doesn't seem too keen on remembering those days. "Blocked out most of them. Lot of blood, lot of partying. Details are all a blur," Stefan proclaims, not matching Klaus' enthusiasm.

Klaus is well on his way to add his input, saying, "Well, that's a crying shame. The details are what makes it legend." He steps back a bit and stares out at the lit-up city. "Word was the Ripper of Monterey got lonely, so he escaped to the city for comfort. It was Prohibition. Everything was off-limits then, which made everything so much fun," Klaus recalls.

Hearing Klaus mention Prohibition makes me think back to learning about the nineteen-twenties in history class last year. Every alcoholic drink you could name and more were strictly outlawed during that period of history. Mister Saltzman really was a good teacher. I always wondered what he did outside of school, though.

Coming out of his very fond memories, Klaus declares with a lustful voice, "Chicago was magical." Chicago, that's where we are. Before today, I had never visited the "Windy City," but even from this distance away, the bright lights and tall skyscrapers are a sight to behold.

"Yeah, well, I'll take your word for it," Stefan sighs. He walks away from where he had been leaning against the door frame. I see Klaus' face fall with disappointment. _Or maybe it is resentment? Maybe he is unsatisfied with Stefan for not indulging in their shared memories?_ "Like I said, I don't remember most of it."

Klaus shuts the door, basking the warehouse in darkness once again. "Down to business then," he murmurs, barely audible through the big piece of metal I sit inside.

When the door has only just closed, Stefan barrels at Klaus with questions. "Why am I still with you? We had our fun, your hybrids failed. I mean, don't you want to move on?" A second of silence passes. Klaus doesn't answer Stefan's questions, just begins walking back to the car. Then Stefan asks something Klaus can't ignore. "Why is she still here?" Klaus stops walking. Stefan nods his head to the car, in my direction. "The girl. The werewolf. Why didn't you try to turn her with the others? Why didn't you kill her? She saw everythi—"

"Enough!" Klaus yells over Stefan. He glances at the car and I look away, though I'm sure he has already seen me. "Maxine is here because I want her to be. Does that answer your questions or do I need to be more clear?"

I shudder. I don't want to imagine what 'more clear' can be insinuating. _Violence. Pain_.

Stefan relents, smart enough to know when to stop pressing for answers from Klaus. Though he does get one more answer.

"We're going to see my second favorite witch. If anyone can help us with our hybrid problem, it's her." I shake my head. The only reason he bothered calling her his 'second favorite' is because he knows I'm eavesdropping. _What a charmer he is_ , I think with a roll of my eyes.

Klaus opens the driver's door and steps inside. "You haven't even witnessed me use my magic," I say to his back. He adjusts the rear-view mirror so that our eyes meet over the seat and declares, "Eavesdropping is quite rude love." I narrow my eyes at his grin but turn my head away, saying nothing in response.

 _Damn him for stumping me with his words_.

Stefan enters the car a second later and asks, "Are we going to visit her now?"

"No," Klaus replies.

"Then where are we going?"

Klaus looks at me through the rear-view mirror once again, blue eyes penetrating through my own.

"Somewhere to stay for the night."

———————————————————

It is a high-rise, luxury hotel that we end up staying in for the night. Well, morning. I guess when you've been around for hundreds of years, you tend to acquire a good amount of money. Klaus had rented out two rooms for the three of us and shocker: he chose to stay with me.

Ignoring his presence altogether, I walk straight into the large bathroom when the door to our suite is unlocked. The bathroom is bathed in tones of white and tan. A mirror hangs above the sink and a Jacuzzi tub is situated beside the bypass-door shower.

Comfort. Relaxation. That is what I desperately crave tonight. I can't remember the last time I'd rested my body in a pool of steaming water. It doesn't take me long to find where they store the linens. I grab a customary white towel and washcloth before turning the dial connected to the tub over halfway to the left. Boiling. I strip off my dirt-ridden clothing and lower my overused body into the rapidly ascending water.

Klaus Mikaelson. The man is an enigma in himself. My brain doesn't have a clue what to make of his soft lilt that can become harsh any second or his cerulean-colored eyes that possess danger and the intent to destroy. My heart stops beating every time his mischievous grin turns into a lethal smirk and each time his soft fingers graze my skin, I hold my breath in anticipation for more.

Suddenly, I'm hit with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and repulsion for finding such a demonic man irresistible. Rather than ponder over the uncomfortable feeling, I force my hands to lather soap onto a wet washcloth and rub the coarse fabric over my body, cleansing my pale skin of the hybrid's touch. Despite the dirt staining the water, I scrub harder, intent to remove the invisible grime left behind. Harder. Harder. Irritated skin bubbles with blood on the surface. _Harder_.

The abused washcloth reaches for my neck, digging into the mark left behind. Two hole-punctured-scars sure to become a reminder of this night that seems like never-ending. Pain. _Pleasure_. My lips form the cusp of a silent moan just as blood dribbles down my collarbone. My head leans over the rim of the tub as I feel the lips of my captor against my neck once again. So demanding. So punishing.

Numb to the feeling of my fingers and toes pruning or the steaming water becoming lukewarm-cold, I don't leave the bathtub until I see the first rays of yellow morning sunlight peeking through the mullionless window.

I towel dry my hair and body and before thinking better of it, step out into the suite without anything but the white cloth wrapped around myself. In such a rush to escape to solidarity before, I hadn't taken a good look at the expensive room. There is a bed across from where I stand at the bathroom door. It is a California King Bed. Close to the ground and wide. It has pure, white sheets as well and an excessive amount of pillows. Inside it lay Klaus, peacefully sleeping. A large mirror that extends the expanse of the wooden dresser underneath it is in facing the foot of the bed, allowing me to see my worst nightmare: two of Klaus. There isn't much else. No balcony. No television. Just a rug and a couple of nightstands with standard lamps.

On one of the nightstands, there is a digital clock with bright blue numbers illuminating half of the room.

Seven-seventeen.

My eyes avert from the glaring numbers, finding something more interesting on the bed.

Staining the white sheets is a red piece of fabric. Walking closer to inspect it, I come upon the realization that it is a shirt. I finger it. Soft. Dark.

Like blood.

Looking over to Klaus who's back is facing me, I conclude that this shirt is intended for me.

A dare: willingly wear his shirt and prove that I'm not scared or defy him and prove just how terrified I really am. Klaus wants me to prove him wrong. He believes I am tough, that I could tangle with him. But he knows I'd never take his shirt for the night. I am just another werewolf involuntarily thrust into a situation that has her in over her head.

Which is exactly why my tightly-clenched fist drops my towel and shuffles into the shirt. I don't care that Klaus is inside the room as I stand nude behind him. I don't care that the shirt is much too long for me or that the cotton makes my nipples harden. I don't care that I have never slept in the same room, let alone the same bed as a man before. Hell, with anyone.

The sheets are cold yet velvety when I finally pull the comforter back and situate my body between the two. Klaus is on my left, sleeping soundly if I'm to judge based on the almost inaudible snores.

I want to peer over at his face and see just how vastly different he might look without his eyes open and mouth cursing, but I already know.

He'll look like an angel.

Even with his hard expressions, Klaus still remains too divine and pure to seem anything but an angel. He can't possibly be a killer. That must be how he fools so many people. One look at those baby blues and stumpy childlike nose and you'll believe any word that falls from his tainted lips.

Klaus hadn't cared to give me the space I desired. No, he had much of the bed and much of the blankets, but I crawl to my edge without so much as a discontent sigh.

It isn't until hours later that I realize what transpired within my body inside that claw-foot bathtub.


	6. CHAPTER THREE

**Maxine's POV**

I had been woken up earlier than I'd prepared for this morning. Eleven-thirty to be precise, which wasn't early by any means, but the nine-hour-sleep I had in the car last night was just not enough when paired with only four more hours afterward. Without a sleep-ridden-voice or bed-hair, Klaus had woken up ready for the day, save for that quick trip to the bathroom. He must go to sleep late and wake up early a lot.

I hadn't bothered questioning his reasoning for waking me up so early. I knew our departure from the hotel was in search of the witch he spoke of last night; the one who could supposedly help him with his hybrid issue.

A pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeve shirt were sitting out for me when I woke up, each jet black. I didn't bother questioning where or how Klaus acquired them, just changed.

I figured Klaus must have already woken Stefan before me and informed him of the day ahead of us. When Klaus and I reached the parking garage, the vampire was patiently standing by the van, waiting for the two of us to arrive. Klaus unlocked the car with the remote that was attached to the key's ring and this time made Stefan sit in the back.

Cars littered the road more in the daylight than they had in the dark. The sky was riddled with clouds, the sun shoved to the back of the white masses. Grey skyscrapers surrounded our car as we drove through the city. It only required a mere ten minutes of driving before arriving at a small bar in the middle of town. Klaus parked the car and paid the meter's hourly fee.

A large neon sign under the building's black awning read _Gloria's_. The sign plastered against the door by an attached hook says closed, but I'm not surprised when Klaus disregards the directions and walks inside. After all, the door isn't locked. Old-fashioned but classic is the bar's aesthetic. Brick walls, lounge chairs, historic art. Across the bar, booths line the wall littered with windows. On the floor below, there are circular tables with matching chairs. Everything wooden is stained a deep brown and the rest remains black. The multiple windows allow the daylight to shine through and something only describable as a fence segregate the two floors. A sign behind the bar has the word _Gloria's_ on it. It is neon red and written in the same font as the one outside, only much smaller. That must be the woman who owns this place.

It isn't until I stop looking around the room that I realize how eerily quiet it is. Fortunately, that silence is squashed by Klaus. With a smirk on his face, he asks aloud, "Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Klaus looks over at Stefan to gauge his reaction and judging by his gradually widening smile, I am sure Stefan doesn't disappoint.

"I can't believe this place is still here," Stefan mutters incredulously.

"You got to be kidding me," a new voice joins in. My head turns to my left to see an African-American woman with buzzed white hair, who appears to be in her mid-to-late forties. She is just a bit taller than I am and I can sense, no, _feel_ the magic that radiates from her.

 _Witch_.

She must be the woman Klaus mentioned last night. And this must be her bar, therefore, she must be Gloria.

"So a hybrid walks into a bar, says to the barman—" Klaus lamely begins with his attempt at a bad joke before being interrupted by the woman. "Stop," she chastens. "You may be invincible, but that doesn't make you funny." I snort. _Talk about hitting the nail on the head_. Klaus glares at me over his shoulder and I give him one of his usual smirks right back. Instead of becoming angry, Klaus grins wolfishly and turns back around.

"I remember you," the woman states, peering at Stefan, completely unaware of the exchange that just occurred between Klaus and me.

"Yeah. You're Gloria," Stefan recalls, confirming the woman's recognition as well as my suspicions about her.

"Mm-hmm."

"Shouldn't you be—"

"Old and dead?" Gloria finishes for him, smiling in understanding. "Now if I die who's goin' run this place, huh?" Gloria rhetorically asks, gesturing to the empty room with a nod of her head.

"Gloria's a very powerful witch," Klaus indicates with his always-rugged voice.

Gloria nods in agreement. "I can slow the aging down with some herbs and spells," she reveals. Ah, herbs and spells. My childhood guardian Anya knew all about those. It is an amazing thing what a little bit of magic can do. "But don't worry, it'll catch up to me one day."

"Stefan, why don't you go and fix us up a little something from behind the bar," Klaus suggests suddenly.

 _Damn, if he really wants to dismiss him he might as well just tell him to get lost._

Stefan begins backtracking his steps toward the bar. "Yeah, sure thing," he mumbles compliantly.

Klaus turns his attention back to Gloria and tries his hand at flattery. "You look ravishing by the way," he compliments.

Less than impressed, Gloria's nose turns up. "Don't," she snubs, rapidly followed by, "It'd be wise of you to focus your fawning on someone who actually cares. How about that girl of yours over there? Why haven't you been doting on her?"

A deep red blush rises to my pale cheeks. If anything, I wish Klaus would pay _less_ attention to me.

Gloria doesn't give any time for Klaus or me to recover from our embarrassment before firing off with the real subject at hand. "I know why you're here," Gloria announces with a sigh as she and Klaus sit down at a table.

"Love, why don't you come sit down," Klaus proposes as he looks back at me and my unmoving position. Even though his words seem to be simply suggesting, his tone is far from that. He is ordering me to listen. I continue to stare back at his glaring eyes, never lifting a foot. His eyes narrow, glare further deepening. "Don't make me say it again." Not in the mood to deal with his anger today, I push my stubbornness aside and walk the short distance to the table, sitting in an unoccupied seat.

Gloria ignores our spat and continues as she would have before being rudely interrupted. "A hybrid out to make more hybrids? That kind of news travels."

"So what am I doing wrong? I broke the curse."

"Obviously you did something wrong," Gloria insists. By now, the fact that Klaus has done 'something wrong' is well-known knowledge. The hybrid sitting on my left doesn't seem too appeased with Gloria's old information as his head tilts to the left and eyes become narrowed. "Look, every spell has a loophole, but a curse that old... we'd have to contact the witch who created it," Gloried relents, divulging more into her knowledge.

"Well, that would be the Original witch. She's very dead," Klaus replies with a sarcastic smile.

"I know. And for me to contact her I'll need help." There is heavy silence as the hybrid and the witch stare each other down. Finally, Gloria says, "Bring me Rebekah."

 _Rebekah?_

I look to Klaus to gauge his reaction. He doesn't seem angry. He doesn't seem pleased either. He just seems... like nothing. There is a bit of avoidance in his eyes, but what can that be from?

 _Is Rebekah important to Klaus? An old friend? An old girlfriend? No, Klaus can't be into commitment. She is probably just another supernatural — a witch, possibly — who has helped Klaus in the past. That is all it was. That is all it could ever be._

 _Is that... jealousy? Jealousy over some girl I've never even met, all because she may have some sort of relation to Klaus?_

 _Where did that sudden spark of territorial possession come from? Where did the instinct to hunt this girl down all in my captor's name come from?_

I snap myself from my ludicrous thoughts when I hear Klaus speak her name. "Rebekah," he sighs heavily. "Rebekah is a bit preoccupied."

God, I hate how he speaks her name. I despise how easily the three-syllable word rolls off his tongue without any bite, so unlike how he speaks mine.

I suddenly feel the stares of three pairs of eyes, two visible as they sit on either side of me. Embarrassment floods my cheeks for a second time today as I realize all-too-late why. I had growled. It was deep and guttural and possessive.

Gloria turns away from me to resume her conversation with Klaus. "She has what I need. Bring her to me," Gloria finalizes. Klaus spares her a glance to let the witch know he acknowledges her words. He turns back to me a moment later with a smirk. "Is that jealousy I see, love," he inquires, gesturing to my clenched fists. I unravel them instantly, much to his amusement.

"No," I scoff, voice more confident than I feel inside. "Why would I be jealous of some floozy?"

"Oh, not only is jealousy seen but heard," the hybrid remarks. He abruptly turns away from me and back to Gloria. "I need your help with one more problem," he requests, holding up his left pointer finger. Gloria sighs but holds her hand out, palm-up as a sign to continue.

Klaus stands from his chair and walks around to my other side, the side Gloria sits on. He leans down closer than is warranted, so close I can feel each slow, deliberate breath on my neck. His hands, which are ice cold, reach for my neck, right where his bite resides. His nails gently begin pulling away the edges of the sticky band-aid he'd slapped on this morning. Once the bite is exposed to the stiff air, Klaus steps back.

The hybrid sighs. "I bit her last night. Not too hard, but I drew blood, much of it in fact. She hasn't healed with my blood. Could you perform a spell to fix this?" he demands, voice too harsh compared to before. _Why is he so damn angry now?_ No, that isn't anger. He is nervous. His hands wring together and apart as each slow minute ticks by. His feet shuffle across the floor. His mouth quivers too much to be an involuntary twitch.

I look to Gloria when she doesn't respond for an extensive period of time. Something in my eyes — desperate pleading, maybe — finally encourages her to speak. Gloria sighs. "Baby, I can't help you with this one." When Klaus gives her a glare at her inability to resolve our issue, she explains further. "Of course your blood won't heal her. You marked her."

"What do you mean?" this time it is me asking a question.

"I mean, you're _mates_. I'd give you at maximum a week before the bite begins kicking in. Judging from the state you're in today, probably sooner. Eventually, you're going to have to bite him back. No amount of magic or blood is going to heal you."

Mates.

Mates.

I can't hear anything beyond that five-letter word.

 _Mates_.

Numbly, I hear Klaus sigh and mutter a curse, something that sounds like, "Bloody hell." Gloria sighs as well but doesn't bother offering condolences. Klaus has gotten himself into the situation. I am just the girl dumb enough to not have run faster sooner.

My mind fades away from the demands that fall out from Klaus' mouth. "How do we undo this?" Klaus yells, just as a distant scream infiltrates my mind, one I had tried burying for so long.

 _"How could you have been so stupid?" Anya screams across the room. She's taken up a corner of the room, the one furthest away from me. She's scared, devastated. Most of all, she's disappointed._

 _From the time I was able to have my own independent thoughts, I knew that Anya was not my real mother. Aside from the fact that she was an African-American woman with deep brown hair and bottomless pits for eyes, Anya was harsh and cold. Anya never shared. Anya never sacrificed. Most importantly, Anya never loved._

 _I don't bother offering any semblance of an excuse, knowing Anya won't accept my words as anything but that — an excuse. She won't believe me when I say it was an accident, that I was just as scared of myself as she was._

 _Anya notices that I keep my distance. She realizes that I don't plan to do any harm. Finally, after many long minutes, she drops the barrier that keeps her shielded from my potential attacks but never moves from her position._

 _"You listen here, child," Anya begins, voice much softer in volume than before, yet no less harsh. "You want to know what you are? Werewolf, you naive child. You killed a man last night and you will continue to wreak havoc on your brothers and sisters." Her bony finger shakes as she points it directly at me. "You want to know why your mother and father didn't want you? You were destined to kill. Born to ruin lives. Worst of all, this isn't even as bad as you will get. No. You have a prophecy that you have to fulfill, one you will never be able to control. Mating does not breed new generations and love. No, you will face danger, a danger so powerful that you won't be able to control your thoughts and actions. Run away while you have the chance. I don't know how much time you have left."_

"What is this?" I hear a voice curiously ask, drawing my attention to them. Oh, it is just Stefan. I'd forgotten all about the vampire. He holds a black and white photograph in his hands and I can distinguish it well enough from where I sit to see that it is of Klaus and Stefan.

"Well, I told you, Stefan. Chicago's a magical place," Klaus reiterates, walking closer to the bar.

"But this is me... with you."

———————————————————

 **Niklaus' POV**

"This doesn't make any sense. Why don't I remember you?" Stefan repeats for only the millionth time. Ever since he found that damned photograph in Gloria's bar he will not shut up about it. He just keeps blabbering on and on...

The thing Stefan can't seem to understand through my lack of enthusiasm is that I don't care about his forgotten memories any more than I care to wake my sister up. What I care about is the mate I didn't know I had that I accidentally marked walking by my side. I didn't just mark her, though. I'd initiated the mating process and now it was up to her to finish it. Regardless of not wishing to be in this situation, I felt even worse for putting her in the situation. If I'd known she was my mate, I would have never bitten her. I don't need the commitment. She doesn't want the attachment.

She would have been better off dead.

"You said it yourself; that time had a lot of dark holes," I explain briefly. Truth be told, the reason for Stefan's amnesia isn't because he had been on a ripper bend, it is due to my unholy compulsion.

"If you knew me, why didn't you say anything?"

The ride back to the warehouse had been filled with interrogation and demands from Stefan. He wants to know how we know each other and why there is a photo of the two of us together. But his insatiable curiosity is not my priority at the moment.

"I'm a little busy right now, memory lane will have to wait," I state with finality, but it seems as if Stefan is about as persistent as he is annoying. After all, the two usually go hand in hand. He places his hand halfway around my arm and tugs me around to face him. But it isn't the continuous defiance from Stefan that grabs my attention; it is the newly familiar growl from my right.

Maxine is glaring with harsh, narrowed eyes at Stefan's hand on my arm. Her fists are clenched and eyes practically blinded by red. I satisfyingly let one corner of my mouth lift up into a knowing smirk and tell her, "Max, love, no need to get heated. Stefan has simply _forgotten_ his _place_." Maxine pays no heed to my words, not even batting an eyelash in my direction. Her focus is still centered on Stefan's unauthorized hold on me. I assume that it isn't me that will be granting consent, but her the next time someone is to touch me.

"What the hell is going on? Answer me!" Stefan presses, squeezing harder on my arm.

"Let him go!" Max growls as she dashes the few steps separating us. Before she has the chance to rip his head off his shoulders -- as much as I would have loved to watch -- I wrap my free arm around her waist to hold her thrashing body away from him. It isn't challenging to keep the distance, despite her strenuous efforts to break from my grasp.

"Let me go so I can _kill_ him! _Let me go!_ " she snarls, snapping her jaws at Stefan.

This isn't the first time today that I have seen a side like this in her. The mate bond is quickly getting to her, just as Gloria said it would. It has just recently become apparent to me that she is quite possessive and has no tolerance for anybody who seems to threaten her, specifically her connection to me. As much as she attempts to hide her true feelings, she is just too bothered to not be obvious.

Not that she can help it. The mating bond has a way of bringing out the worst in even the best of us.

"Now, now, Maxine. Why don't you relax? Stefan won't hurt me."

Again, she is relentless.

"Hey, Klaus. Why don't you tell your watchdog to shut her mouth."

My blood boils at his words and finally, I am done with Stefan and his unruly attitude. While not too keen on the mating situation, I am willing to own up to my mistake and accept what is to come. Max is mine and I need to protect her. To make my mate upset is one thing, but to insult her? He is going to get a harsh awakening.

"Stefan, it would be wise of you to shut your bloody mouth before I let Max here rip you a new one. As you can tell, she's quite temperamental. There's no telling _what_ sort of _damage_ she'll do to you. That is if I decide to let her loose. However, if you don't desire your bloody heart ripped from your chest courtesy of me, I suggest you never say something so demeaning about my mate again."

 _My mate_.

Stefan finally falls silent and I shrug my arm out of his white-knuckled grasp. I pull a still writhing Max further away from Stefan, much to her protest.

"Stop! Let me go!"

"Maxine, sweetheart. If you don't calm down I will be forced to do something. You don't want me to knock you out, do you? Punishment really _isn't_ necessary, don't you think? You need to learn to control yourself."

"Oh, piss off. Control myself? _You're_ the one that can't control himself! _You_ killed a whole pack of werewolves just because _you_ wanted hybrids!" she screams.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting my temper calm itself down before finally saying, "I'll deal with you later."

There is a hint of fear in her eyes before she rolls them and crosses her arms over her chest, pouting. I echo her eye-roll before turning my back to her to provide a response to Stefan's unanswered question.

"Let's just say we didn't get off to a brilliant start. To be honest, I hated you." I went on to inform Stefan very briefly that he and my sister, Rebekah, fancied each other back in the Roaring Twenties. The three of us had a very good time together. I even believed it would last a lifetime. But that's the thing: nothing ever lasts a lifetime. Glancing down at Maxine, I realize just how true that might be. Unless I am able to follow through with my plans, of course.

"So I knew another Original vampire," Stefan declares, more of a statement than a question.

"If you can't handle it then don't ask," I proclaim before grabbing Max roughly by her upper arm and dragging her with me throughout the dimly lit hallway. My ears perk at the sound of Stefan's following footsteps and I continue my short walk toward the upcoming room. Max repeatedly attempts to shrug me off, but like a rope, my hold only gets tighter the more she struggles.

I walk past all the other expensive coffins in the room, heading with purpose to the one in the middle, firm steps the whole way there. Letting go of Maxine, I open the coffin lid and peer at the inside where a blonde woman wearing an off-white, hand-beaded, sleeveless flapper dress lays. Her red lipstick is faded but still perfectly in place and her white feather is in the correct position upon her still-intact vintage faux bob. Despite her visible veins and grey skin, the desiccated vampire is as beautiful as the day she was born.

Max stands on my left and Stefan comes to stand on my right, all of us gazing at her.

"I don't recognize her," Stefan utters, causing me to nearly smile.

"Don't tell her that. Rebekah's temper's worse than mine."

———————————————————

 **Maxine's POV**

"Don't tell her that. Rebekah's temper's worse than mine," Klaus advises Stefan as he reaches his hand down to lovingly caress said woman's cheek, faintly smiling in adoration. In love. Just before removing his hand from the coffin altogether, Klaus heaves the sharp dagger from her chest. "Time to wake up little sister."

The woman — Rebekah, which I now know to be Klaus' little sister — is beautiful. She has light golden blonde hair that is styled into a short bob, widely popular in the nineteen-twenties, which seems to be the time period she was originally desiccated in. She wears a beautiful flapper dress that ends just a couple inches past her knees and has a matching-colored feather sitting at the back of her head, situated somewhere in her shining hair. Her pearls are part of a long-hanging necklace, knotted in the center and resting around the small bloodstain that shows through her dress.

Good looks definitely ran in the family, but God did I feel sorry for what this poor girl must have had to endure by being related to Klaus.

"Now that's hard to believe," I mutter after a few short seconds. I was mostly talking to myself than the other inhabitants of the cold room, but they hear anyway.

Klaus slightly tilts his head in acknowledgment to me, never taking his eyes off of Rebekah. He has a knowing smirk on his face and in false obliviousness inquires, "Now why would that be, love?"

I scoff and laugh at the same time. He has to be yanking my chain. " _Please_ , is there _anyone_ who has a worse temper than _you_?"

He finally tears his eyes away from his sister to look into my eyes. " _You_ ," he says with complete seriousness.

" _Me?!_ " I screech, voice unusually high-pitched and shrill. Shrill enough to make even myself wince. I mean, sure, my temper got out of control just minutes before, but I can't control how the bite he inflicted on me forces to me to act or think.

Klaus nods his head and folds his muscular arms across his toned chest, confirming that to be his answer.

"Oh, that's rich," I scoff once again. Klaus smiles as I finally let it go, choosing to ignore him altogether. He must get off on getting a rise out of me.

Slow seconds tick by in silence. Klaus watches Rebekah, I watch Klaus, and Stefan watches me. That I realize when I happen to divert my eyes away from Klaus for a moment and see the glare that the vampire has focused on me. I shiver uncomfortably. Without acknowledging him, I turn back to Klaus, but the question keeps ringing in my head, _Why is he looking at me like that?_

"Time to wake up now, Rebekah," Klaus announces again. this time laced with annoyance. Clearly, he had expected her to be back to life by now. We spend minutes just standing and watching her stationary form. The veins and dull grey color appearing on her body still don't clear.

 _Why hasn't she awoken by now? Has she been out for so long that the wake-up time became prolonged?_

"Any day now, Rebekah," Klaus drawls out, voice emphasized a little more than normal with his homeland accent and usual impatience. "She's being dramatic," Klaus expresses with a glance toward Stefan who hasn't spoken a word this whole time.

Stefan bristles uncomfortably. "Look, why don't you just tell me what the hell is going on? I mean, obviously, you want me here for a reason, right?" Stefan suggests, seemingly casual when in reality his shifty eyes and exaggerated movements are anything but.

"Well you have many useful talents," Klaus says.

Stefan nods along, playing Klaus' game for the information he desires. A whisper slips from his lips, "Do I?"

Klaus looks over at him, holding out a hand. "In fact, I learned some of my favorite tricks from you."

"Mm-hmm," Stefan hums and Klaus continues. He goes on to describe a not-so-vague memory he has of Stefan. Sometime about ninety years ago, Stefan had compelled a man by the name of Liam Grant to drink his own wife's blood that he'd watched be drained from her just recently slit wrist. It is sick. People's lives were used as toys. Their torture was just entertainment for Klaus, Stefan, and Rebekah.

Power-hungry. The three supernaturals were power-hungry. _Are_ power-hungry. In their life, they've never had a sense of control. Once they obtain it, they abuse it.

Regardless, Klaus is so obviously persuading Stefan to like him like he used to. He takes his time reciting stories and throwing in casual, useless compliments. He thinks that by telling Stefan the story of their friendship and his love for Rebekah, that things will be that way again.

 _Wrong_.

Stefan may have a soft heart, but Klaus has hardened him, unknowingly making his advances for friendship just that much harder to be reciprocated from the vampire. Stefan is anything but stupid. He knows when he is being played. _Klaus surely is smart enough as well to have realized that by now, right?_

Klaus walks away from Rebekah's coffin, leaving Stefan and me to follow. "I was your number one fan," Klaus declares, a hint of adoration in his voice.

It is at that moment that I first feel something more than superficial for Klaus Mikaelson.

Pity.

Klaus has been alive for over a millennium. I've met hundreds, hell, probably thousands at least, of people in my life. I've lost my fair share. _But Klaus? Surely he's been in love before? Surely more than once? He has to have had some semblance of family, right?_

It is at this moment that I realize Klaus Mikaelson is anything but happy.

He is _lonely_.

He craves attention like a starved child. He wants companions and he'll take them any way he can get.

Maybe I don't want to run from Klaus Mikaelson after all. Maybe I want to be his companion. Maybe I want to explore all of the places he can take me and the things he can teach me.

"Why should I believe any of this?" Stefan questions, curiosity and skepticism being his two biggest leaders. The more I look into his eyes, which aren't focused on me, the more I realize he might just be believing it himself.

Klaus chooses to ignore Stefan's question, just like he's done many times before, and walks toward the on-duty security guard. He gestures toward his dead sister still in her coffin. "When she wakes up, tell her to meet us at Gloria's Bar, then volunteer your carotid artery and let her feed until you die," Klaus compels the young man. The guard nods his head in forced understanding and Klaus begins to walk away again.

I balk. _How can Klaus just do that? How can he just let an innocent stranger die? Sure, the man doesn't matter to him, but he matters to someone else. How would it feel to have someone you love ripped away from you so suddenly because of a psychopath like Klaus Mikaelson?_ Urging myself not to say my piece, I let my heavy feet carry me behind Stefan and Klaus through the short hallway.

 _Do I want to say something? Of course, I want to say something. But one can't simply disagree with Klaus Mikaelson and expect him to change at your will. No, Klaus Mikaelson doesn't change for anybody, not even his mate._

"Where are you going," Stefan asks the question we've both been wondering.

Klaus doesn't even spare a glance over his shoulder to make sure we follow, just walks forward with his confident swagger. "You think I'm lying, Stefan. You and I knew each other. You trusted me with one of your secrets and now I'm going to prove it to you," the hybrid declares.

"How?"

"We're going to your old apartment."

Stefan stops walking, just a little more caught off guard than before. I walk around him and can hear his footsteps resume seconds later when he comes out of his stupor. Met with the black van again as we open the warehouse door to the harsh sunlight, I walk to the passenger door, leaving Stefan to sit in the backseat once again.

The drive is a short one, something I am beginning to enjoy when the only form of noise is stifling silence. Once the car makes a full stop, Klaus and Stefan waste no time leaving the car in favor of walking into the short building. I'm left catching up to their fast-paced, long strides.

By the time I manage to catch up to them, the two men are already halfway up the second set of stairs. It is only a few seconds later that we reach the third floor and they stop. "What a charming little homestead," Klaus says, approaching what I assume to be Stefan's apartment door.

Each step that brings me closer allows me to notice that the doorknob has been broken off and misplaced. Klaus' eyes hone in on the missing handle as well before using a foot to kick the already slightly ajar door open. The door hits the wall on the other side and Klaus walks the first steps into the dusty, unoccupied apartment, leather boots clanking heavily on the wooden floor.

Klaus stops walking in the middle of the room, holding up a hand. "Do you feel that?" he asks, directing the question at Stefan and me with a glance over his shoulder. _Feel?_ No. _Smell?_ Well, I smell musk and all kinds of aged wood, but there is a lingering hint of... _perfume?_ "Is anybody here?" he now questions aloud, a look on his face that states: _I want answers_. In the dim lighting, all that is seen is the dark shadows on his pale face. He seems older. Darker.

Stefan takes his first steps inside his old apartment, glancing around. "It's been vacant for decades. People must break in all the time," he supplies. The excuse seems faulty at it's best, but it satisfies Klaus... for the moment.

I am betting that Stefan can't smell the scent of someone here like Klaus and I are able to, but he can definitely hear exceptionally well. Heartbeats don't lie. But Stefan Salvatore does.

That's right, I recalled sometime last night where I remembered the vampire from — history with Mister Alaric Saltzman. One of the most memorable parts of my high-school career was when the vampire transferred to Mystic Falls High at the beginning of my junior year and every girl went hormonal for him. My antisocial self never saw the attraction to his bland hair and tan skin. I bet he doesn't even remember me, not that it bothers me. Sadly, I never graduated. I would be starting my senior year this month, but events I hadn't planned for pushed me to leave Mystic Falls, Virginia.

The vampire is quick to divert the conversation onto something other than the suspicious nature of his apartment. "Why'd you bring me here?" he asks Klaus.

Klaus idly walks to and fro the furniture as he speaks. First the small dining table, then the mundane bed. "Your friend, Liam Grant — the one who drank his wife's blood... I never could figure out why you wanted his name." Klaus looks over to Stefan who has been absentmindedly running his fingers over a dust-covered book he once owned. "And then you told me your little secret. It was all part of your special little ritual."

It suddenly hits Stefan and before he can stop himself, the whisper falls from his thin lips, "To write it down..."

"And relive the kill over and over again," Klaus finishes for him. He turns around to the pantry and opens it to reveal the truth behind bags of flour and spices.

A hidden door.

"You believe me now?" Klaus asks, holding the door open. Stefan walks forward to peer inside and Klaus walks away, coming to stand beside me. My feet are still firmly planted in the center of the room and I shiver. With no heat, it is as cold as a freezer inside the dusty room. Klaus shrugs his jacket off his shoulders to hang over my own, leaving him in a dark grey, long-sleeve shirt.

"Look what I found!" Stefan declares, drawing my attention back to him. Klaus however, doesn't let his eyes stray from me until I shove my arms through the sleeves of his offered jacket, fully accepting his coat in relation to the nice gesture.

When Klaus finally turns around, he steps out of the way of my vision and I am able to see what Stefan is holding. In his right hand is a bottle of scotch whiskey. "Nineteen-eighteen Single Malt."

Klaus stares at the full bottle with soft enthusiasm. "My favorite," he whispers.

"Hmm," Stefan hums in agreement. I guess he remembers more of the past than he thought.

"Let's go find someone to pair it with," Klaus eagerly suggests as he takes the bottle from Stefan, grabs one of my ice-cube hands, and walks out of the apartment.


	7. CHAPTER FOUR

**Questions? Thoughts? Let me know what you guys think of this chapter and how the story is progressing!**

 **Niklaus' POV**

Gloria's bar is immensely livelier in the nighttime.

Every table, booths and chairs alike, have filled capacity. Three-fourths of the stools at the bar are taken, leaving a mere four or five left. Drinks of every sort are being served, Gloria barely unable to make time between drinks to wipe down the sticky counter.

Ah, this brings back memories of those ripper days.

"Where's Rebekah?" Gloria softly demands, sitting a cold, unordered bottle of beer in front of me as soon as my bottom hits the wooden stool. I sigh. Clearly, the witch had been expecting my little sister to be here by now. She isn't the only one.

I grab the offered bottle, which drips water from the ice it was recently pulled out of, and take a long gulp. Only after sitting the bottle back onto the counter do I answer her. "She'll be here," I reassure the witch. "I can't just conjure her on demand." Gloria grins knowingly at my attitude and proceeds to walk away, resuming tending to her other customers.

I turn to Max, lifting my beer in question. "Are you sure you don't want a drink, love? Something fruity?" I had already asked the werewolf when we initially walked into the bar, but she had just shook her blonde head. This time, I try meeting her big, blue eyes, but all she does is avoid the contact.

"Yes, I'm sure I don't want anything to drink," she declines once again before adding in, "And if I did, I wouldn't want some girly drink to offset what a bad time I'm having."

I smirk, not surprised in the least that she has to throw that last comment in.

 _So, she is having a bad time. A little bit of teasing can't make things worse._

"Is it because you're underage? Are you afraid to go against the rules? You know Gloria won't card you, right?" Even though I only poke her mockingly, which I am sure she knows, this joking only brings out her wild, fiery temper even more.

She opening scoffs at my insinuation. "Fuck off, Klaus."

 _She is becoming more brazen by the minute._

I lean closer to her, attempting to get the girl to look at me. She continues to avoid my wandering eyes but I see her head tilt a bit closer in acknowledgement. "Oh, come on," I whisper persuasively. "It'll take the edge off. That seems to be _exactly_ what you need right now." One of my hands reach for a strand of her hair and curl it around my fingers, feeling just how soft her blonde locks are.

Maxine feels the gentle tug on her scalp and reaches one of her own hands back to slap mine away. I let the molested strand of hair fall limply back where it belongs. "I like being on edge. It keeps me alert," she replies to me curtly.

Now that is a response I wasn't expecting from the little one. Clearly she has a reason for wanting to be 'alert'. After all, I had the same mindset all those years ago when my father had been chasing me and my siblings. Back then, I was always looking over my shoulder and sleeping with one eye open.

I have let the silence pass for too long, I realize once I finally prompt her with a question. "And who might you need to be on 'alert' for?"

It is never something you needed to watch for. Always someone.

Maxine finally meets my eyes, the close proximity I unintentionally created making her lean her face away slightly. With a sharp edge to her tone, she answers, " _Everyone_."

I know her well enough to know I'm not going to get further explanation as to what she means by that, so I instead chose to let her entertain herself while I converse with Stefan. My body shifts in the seat to the man on my right. "What's with you?" I ask the withdrawn vampire. He is quieter than usual tonight. "I thought Chicago was your playground?"

Stefan turns to give me his full attention, unlike Max. He chooses to ignore my questions and answer me with one of his own. "So this is why you asked me to be your wing-man? 'Cause you liked the way I tortured innocent people?"

I sigh. Clearly he is still thinking about his wall of names, about the story of poor Liam Grant. Stefan is always so contemplative, so reticent. I grab the unopened battle of Single Malt we brought along and pull the metal cap off before holding it up to him, grinning, and beginning to pour the alcohol into two shot glasses. "Well that's certainly the half of it."

"What's the other half?"

"The other half, Stefan, is that you used to want to be my wing-man," I earnestly reply. I finish filling the second glass to the brim and just like so many years ago, slide the small glass in his direction.

I remember a time when the two of us had shared a bottle of Single Malt over my feelings of my so-called abomination. Stefan had dispelled every feeling I had of being unwanted. He had called me a king, lifting my spirits in seconds, making me instead feel utterly embarrassed and foolish. In those moments, Stefan and I were true friends. The younger vampire had showed his gratitude for me by telling me just how good of a friend I was and how glad he was that we'd met. Even now, I remember the love I had for my brother, believing I'd never lose him or our bond.

"To friendship," I declare, mind back in the present. I lift the full shot-glass in cheers and we clank each respective, small glass together, Stefan a bit hesitantly. I down my drink in one damaging, heavy gulp.

To brotherhood.

———————————————————

As a vampire, I never got so much as a lick of drunk, but even I am willing to admit that I am tipsy.

It has been a good thirty minutes or so of bonding. Is bonding the right word? Yes, it is bonding. Stefan and I are bonding. Maxine has taken a brief backseat in my mind, though I am sure she doesn't mind one bit.

Stefan must be just a bit under the influence of the alcohol as well if I am to judge based off of the casual smiles that keep slipping my way unauthorized.

It feels good to drink and talk with Stefan, even if I don't particularly like what we talk about. It reminds me of a time when we were more than strangers.

Stefan and I have been mulling over our thoughts for the past ten or so minutes, just sitting in our constant despondency.

"So I'm confused," Stefan begins as I pour more of the Single Malt into one of the larger glasses we had opted to use a while ago. "If we were such great friends, then why do I only know you as the hybrid _dick_ who sacrificed my girlfriend on an altar fire? Huh?"

I snort, not even having to glance over to my left to know that Maxine is raising her delicate, blonde eyebrows. Then a smile lights up my face. Stefan is being blunt with me, just how I like him. He is making me and the whole situation sound as grisly as possible.

"All good things must come to and end," I answer, recalling how my sister, Stefan, and I had ambushed by police armed with wooden bullets all those years ago. I had to compel Stefan to forget Rebekah and I for our safety, as well as his.

Stefan patiently sits in silence as I tell him my story, something he is just now hearing and not even remembering. "You compelled me to forget," Stefan states the obvious, finally putting the pieces together on his own.

"It was time for Rebekah and I to move on," I justify dismissively. "Better to have a clean slate." I throw the remnants of the contents sitting in the bottom of my glass to the back of my throat, swallowing, and gently slamming it back down on the wooden bar.

Stefan leans in closer. Now he is psychoanalyzing. He is going to ask about my motives, about my modus operandi, about my thoughts and feelings.

And I want none of it.

Him asking questions makes him seem like he gives a damn about our friendship, which just reminds me of how much he really doesn't.

"But why?" Stefan presses just as I suspected he would. "You shouldn't have to cover your tracks... unless you're running from someone," Stefan surmises, beginning to connect the dots.

Just as Maxine had done with me earlier, I avoid Stefan's prying eyes and intrusive questions. It is now the time for me to close myself back up. Stefan has been told too much information already and he is beginning to put the clues together. I can't have him figuring out about _him_. "Story time's over," I finalize the conversation, glaring into his eyes with no-nonsense, something he isn't stupid enough to ignore.

Out if my periphery, I see Stefan glance over his shoulder and announce quite suddenly, "I need another drink. A real one." Stefan jumps off of the bar-stool and walks away, leaving Maxine, the Single Malt, and I all alone.

I grab the bottle of Single Malt and pour what is left into my glass, readying myself for more.

 _Tipsy? Oh, I am just getting started_.

———————————————————

 **Maxine's POV**

The clock on the wall reads nine-forty-three, but in my mind it feels much later.

Klaus, Stefan, and I have only been at Gloria's for a mere hour. Sometime ago, maybe five minutes prior, Stefan had stepped out, excusing himself for a 'real drink'. Klaus had continued drinking his Single Malt until the last drop was obliterated. I look over at the hybrid. He isn't facing me, but I can see just a bit of sadness lurking in his down-turned mouth and unfocused eyes.

"Are you just going to drink yourself into oblivion the rest of the night? That's _awfully_ depressing," I mock, attempting to rile Klaus up or at least get some sort of reaction from the hybrid. I am slightly peeved that he has spent all night drinking and conversing with Stefan.

The hybrid turns to me with playful eyes. Almost instantly do I know I just tread into dangerous territory. An artificial grin lights up his face and he leans just slightly too close for comfort. "Max, love. I'm getting _awfully_ tired of your constantly grating remarks and overall spiteful attitude. You are quite possibly the most maddening woman I have ever met and I would like nothing more than to shove my boot so far up your pretty, little ass that you taste the gum on the bottom of my shoe." He turns back around to rub his forehead in a stressful fashion. "Bloody hell, why'd I get stuck with you of all people," Klaus mumbles quietly to himself. He takes another sip of his half-full beer and wave one of Gloria's barmen over for another.

Confidence is something I never had to fret over. I have plenty of it for the next girl and even the one after that. If Klaus thinks that my attitude was spiteful before, then he has another thing coming.

So with that perspective ingrained inside my mind, I let my body slide closer to my mate's. My left hand reaches across my waist to fall into his lap. "Klaus, _love_ ," I begin, using the nickname he is always so fond of. "I just get so turned on when you talk to me like that; like I don't matter, like you don't care about me at all. And you want to know why?" I propound, voice sickly sweet and so unlike my usual self. Klaus refuses to give me the satisfaction of recognition, but his perked ears and tilted head tell a different story. I grip his jean-clad pant-leg just a bit tighter before answering my own question. "It's because it's all just one big cover-up. It's true; you find me annoying and want to stick your foot up my ass. But, really, you're not at all sorry that you bit me." After my brazen declaration, I haphazardly allow my _ChapStick_ -coated lips to ghost over the shell of his reddening ear. My body gravitates closer and a smirk pulls the corners of my mouth apart, knowing — thinking — I've won this round.

Klaus jumps from his seat and like a domino effect, my body is pushed back, bottom nearly plummeting to the floor. The infuriated, slightly unsettled hybrid manages to grab one of my biceps before I fall and drags my body back onto my seat. With an expected yet harsh and unapologetic grip on my face, he forces my eyes to stare straight into his own grave ones. Without a word, Klaus flashes his yellow irises, scaring the arrogance right off my face. Then he speaks. "I know exactly what you're doing, Maxine. Don't you ever, ever dare put yourself into a position like that if you aren't willing to fulfill it."

I ground my teeth together. _How dare he insinuate that I can't handle whatever he is to throw at me?_

My hands push against his chest but he refuses to move. I huff and growl at him, "Get off." My anger only fuels his amusement, as always. "Move," I growl again, this time hitting his chest as well. He finally steps back, allowing me room to breathe.

I don't need a mirror to know that my cheeks are an embarrassing and quite noticeable shade of red. I feel the heat burning my pale skin. Klaus smiles at the sight. _Bastard_.

I stare into his eyes a little harder and find determination in my reflection. Klaus isn't going to be the man to break me down. No, he'll be the one to build me up. He'll be the man that furthers my strength and courage. His credence in me will embolden my equilibrium and give me something to believe in again.

"Don't be so afraid to show me that you care. You don't always have to hide behind your ego, Klaus," I whisper before thinking better of something so carelessly presumptuous.

My mate — that is becoming easier and easier to say to myself — reaches up with an open palm and caresses one of my still-red cheeks, his calloused thumb tracing over my skin, rough and soft at the same time. The gentle strokes become subtle digs into my skin and I wince. He ceases the ministrations all together, hand finally laying to rest on my face.

I raise my eyebrows at his silence paired with the distracting, harsh touch on my face. My raised eyebrows are enough to indicate my inner turmoil and desire of an honest answer.

Klaus' voice becomes dauntingly stern when he warns, " Don't assume things you have no knowledge on, love. You know nothing of me or what I fear. But know this: I definitely don't fear you." He stares at my intrusive eyes once more before sitting back on his bar-stool and picking up his new beer, proceeding to drink as if the last five minutes never occurred.

I have to force my body to sit down, but even then, I can't force myself to look away from the hybrid. Although stumped and offended, I brush what Klaus said off of my shoulders. Klaus is anything but affectionate, anything but open about his feelings. I'm not hurt that he stated the obvious: I don't know a damn thing about him. But Klaus is wrong about one thing. I'm not assuming. I know.

A barely audible whisper falls from my lips in response to his accusation, "That's a lie and you know it." I know Klaus hears me but he refuses to continue our conversation. In fact, he even takes it a step further and turns his head the turn the other way, ignoring me. I'm not offended. To be offended, you have to be surprised. I turn to face the bar as well, knowing I'll get nothing more than silence the rest of the night.

———————————————————

About five minutes, give or take, have passed without a word. Gloria has added a scotch from under the counter to Klaus' tab, which he drinks more sundered than his Single Malt from before. Must be something about drinking alone that makes Klaus want to actually taste the flavor.

"Last call, drink 'em up!" I hear Gloria faintly call to the leftover laggards from a distance. I glance over in her direction upon hearing her voice when someone else enters my line of vision. A raven-haired man sits on Klaus' other side, where Stefan was sitting previously only several minutes before, sighing as his body hits the wooden stool.

I breathe his unfamiliar scent in deeply.

 _Vampire_.

What is with all of these vampires the past couple of days? Everywhere I turn there's another one popping up out of the shadows. In fact, this one almost even seems familiar, though I can't discern from where or exactly why.

The unfamiliar man leans his elbows over the bar top. I discreetly watch him glance around, though he never looks in my direction. Klaus doesn't spare the new man a head-turn but I see a smile curve his lips up as he takes another sip of his scotch. "I see they've opened the doors to the riff-raff now," Klaus muses at the man quite casually. Too casual for the tense atmosphere I sense.

 _Does Klaus know him?_

The newcomer doesn't give Klaus a glance either but just like Klaus, he has a smirk unabashedly present on his face. Unfazed by Klaus, the unfamiliar man airily replies, "Oh honey, I've been called worse."

Klaus' smirk impossibly widens. He picks up the complimentary wooden parasol that came with his scotch — not the Single Malt, but another Gloria had stocked. "You don't give up, do you?" Klaus directs at the man, twirling the miniature umbrella between the tips of his thick, long fingers.

The man finally looks over in Klaus' direction. Something about him and Klaus is just all in the same. They each have a deadly sarcasm, one that confuses you to wonder if they were being serious or not. They each have glory-filled eyes that hold hints of darkness, of danger. Something about their playful smile and mischievous eyes is all too similar. It is unsettling how much of my mate I see in this man.

"Give me my brother back and you'll never have to see me again," the man suggests.

 _Brother? Who is his brother?_

"Well, I am torn. You see, I promised Stefan I wouldn't let you die, but how many freebies did I really sign up for? And clearly you want to die, otherwise you wouldn't be here. So..." Klaus explains, leaning his head back and forth between his broad shoulders as to indicate the devil and an angel sitting on each side.

 _Conscience or temptation?_

 _Good or bad?_

 _Stefan? Is this Stefan's brother?_

I take another look at the dark-haired vampire and in that moment decide that yes, this is Stefan's brother.

Damon Salvatore.


	8. CHAPTER FIVE

**Maxine's POV**

It is oddly strange how Klaus Mikaelson can transform from threatening one minute to engaging in a faux casual conversation the next.

Damon throws his hand up and shrugs his shoulders, exaggerated expression rivaling Klaus'. With a sarcastic smile overly pronounced on his face, Damon replies, "What can I say? I'm a thrill seeker." The smile on each man's face will deceive you to believe they're old friends, but the hostility hanging thickly in the air says otherwise. By now everybody has cleared out of the bar for the night and we are the only three left.

I spare myself the millisecond required to blink and where Damon had been sitting on the stool a moment prior, he is now hanging above the hardwood floor, neck in one of Klaus' hands. Somewhat shamefully, I can feel a bit of appreciation bloom for Klaus for how swift he had been. He is graceful, brisk with speed only a hybrid could possess. The bones in Damon's neck can be heard snapping under the harsh grip Klaus orders. I can only imagine how painful that must be, especially at the mercy of a merciless man.

Damon groans in clear discomfort and Klaus being Klaus takes this as his chance to resume his mocking. "Oh dear, what was that?" Klaus aims the yellow umbrella taken from his drink at Damon's straining throat. "I'm a little boozy, so you'll forgive me if I miss your heart the first few tries," Klaus excuses. He shoves the slender piece of wood into Damon's rib cage and a groan soon ensues from the strung-up vampire. "No that's not it," Klaus mutters, removing the toothpick, which now has blood coating it, and raises it higher up. His hand stops movement toward the center of Damon's chest, dangerously close to his pumping heart as he shoves the toothpick back in. Another groan. "Oh, almost," Klaus lazily drawls out, jamming the wood further inside to prolong the torture.

 _How much longer can I sit here and let Klaus continue his sadistic torture? Do I care for Damon Salvatore?_

Not particularly. _But am I just going to sit here and watch as the two men fight?_

Forcing the words from his mouth, Damon says, "You want a partner in crime? Forget Stefan, I'm so much more fun." Of course Damon will say this. Damon will say anything to bargain for his baby brother's life, even if it means fulfilling the position himself.

Klaus pretends to ponder over Damon's proposition before ultimately deciding to throw him across the wide room into unoccupied tables, which leads to his body knocking the tables upside down and onto their sides. Just as Klaus begin the short trip to Damon, I reach out for him. "Klaus, stop," I beg but the attempt is feeble. I stand from my seat but he leans away from my touch and I am unable to grab him. I walk closer to try to stop him again, but this time someone else has stopped me. Damon grabs me from behind, neck in his unforgiving hands.

Klaus wastes no time seeking me out. His dark eyes drift to mine, pleading with me not to fret. He begins walking back to the bar where I am held captive, making but two steps before sharp nails are sunk into the flesh of my neck, breaking the skin and allowing the blood to flow to the curvature of my collar.

The whole world takes a pause in my bloodshed. Klaus' nose sniffs out the scent before curling at the beginnings of a snarl. "Let. Her. Go," Klaus demands, voice curt with fury.

It takes no time for Damon to snap back with a quick-witted reply. After all, Damon holds all the power now. "Well, you know, I might actually like to see what her sweet blood tastes like." Damon rests his head uncomfortably close in the curve of my neck and takes a dramatic whiff, sighing in bliss. Klaus growls in displeasure and Damon leans away, going back to his serious, negotiator side. "Or maybe... I should just kill her. Rip her heart out? Snap her neck? It's either _her_ or my _brother_. I'll let you choose, all-powerful wolf-vamp."

Klaus' dauntingly hollow laugh that follows Damon's words chills my body. He shakes his head in contempt at the vampire's implausible, foolish ultimatum. In that moment, there is nothing that scares me more than when Klaus looks Damon in the eyes. There is nothing more lethal, more disturbing than the glint in his blue irises. "That is where you've got it wrong mate," Klaus replies, voice calmer than I expect. Is there such thing as a poker voice? Because if so, Klaus has it. "That angel you're holding between your grubby fingers is _mine_. She is and always will be mine. And nobody, _nobody_ will ever dare harm her because if they do, well... lets just say they won't live past her next breath. If you even so much as consider plucking even one strand of hair from her blonde head, I will kill you and I will make it so painful that you'll wish you were never born."

Damon doesn't release me in the wake of Klaus' declaration, but I feel his hand tremble underneath the weight of the hybrid's words. "Why do you even care about blondie anyway?" Damon asks, confuzzled, then it comes to him and he laughs heartily. "Oh wait, that's right, you're a mutt. This flea-bag must be your mate. Am I right?"

"Don't you dare _ever_ insult her again!" Klaus roars, voice rapidly altering. Something about Damon's last statement upsets him more than anything the vampire has said before. I'm sure that as soon as I am out of harm's way, the vampire behind me will have his head sitting on a stick.

Damon isn't going to let me go anytime soon and Klaus isn't going to risk getting closer with me still in Damon's hands. That means it is up to me to get myself out of this. My only solution is magic, a dangerous thing I've promised myself to never use again — practice or not. _But when my life rests in nobody's hands but my own, what am I supposed to do?_

I let my eyes drift shut to prepare. I can hear the wise words of Anya lull my body into a tranquil state of peace. Stay calm. Don't let heightened emotions get the better of you.

Not this time.

"Ah! What the hell!" Damon screams as his brain begins to undergo and induced aneurysm. He pushes me to the floor in favor of cowering his head down so that his hands can clutch his temples.

Klaus uses his supernatural speed to catch me before I hit the floor. He sits me on a stool at the bar and his hands come to trace the tender skin on my throat. When he feels the small incisions, his eyes transition to a beaming gold and he releases a guttural growl from somewhere deep in his throat. "Are you alright, love," Klaus asks with a calm voice, despite his wolf being present.

Just a mere five feet away, Damon still whimpers in pain. Infuriated by the unjustified treatment I received from the vampire, I up the magnitude of inflicted pain with the addition of aneurysms in his heart and legs. He falls to the ground, body coiled in a fetal position and only seconds away from dying — albeit only temporarily.

I don't prefer to kill a defenseless, unmatched victim, even they are fine with doing the same to me. But Damon is a threat to Klaus and I. I can't afford one of us to be put in harm's way again. With that quick-made decision in my mind, I am well on my way to letting my magic run rampant on the vampire when I feel a warm, wet sensation on my collar. My eyes drift away from their intended target to find Klaus' head in the crook of my neck. I feel his tongue drawing a trail from my collar bone to the nail-made puncture wounds. Neighboring the four cuts is Klaus' exposed bite, something that evades my mind until Klaus sinks his fangs back into the vein. The reopening of his bite brings about an intense shock wave of pain and desire, fueled by the blood he steals without consent, something I am a willing participant in regardless.

I grab each of Klaus' arms in one of my hands and pull him closer. He growls in appreciation and I offer up my neck even more for his affection. I don't realized that I have lost focus of Damon until I hear him wail into the air, pouring cold water over my masochistic haze. Klaus licks my new wounds one final time to close them before turning his undivided attention back to Damon. His eyes are no longer a calm blue like when he had spoken to me. Time to get back to business.

Klaus picks Damon up from the ground and throws him across the room into the fallen tables and chairs. I must have done quite the number on the vampire because he doesn't even bother attempting to stand or defend himself, just opts for laying there in waiting, like the gazelle who has fell so many times that it knows escape is impossible at this point.

With rapid-falling footsteps, Klaus steadily walks over to a surrendering Damon. "You won't be any fun after you're dead," Klaus promises the vampire as he snaps a sole leg off of a fallen chair. Klaus crouches over Damon's sluggish body and brings the conveniently constructed wooden stake over his head, readying it to be stabbed into the heart of our mutual enemy. Just as Klaus' hands begin their decent of the stake, the weapon catches hot fire. Klaus drops the wood that has suddenly burnt him and we all turn to the source of the attack.

Gloria.

" _Really?!_ " Klaus exclaims, voice laced with heavy exasperation.

"Not in my bar," Gloria heatedly declares, pointing at the storefront door. "You take it outside."

Damon finds this the opportune time to seize his freedom, at least to escape from Klaus, but is pushed back down by the hybrid's hand. "You don't have to negotiate your brother's freedom. When I'm done with him he won't wanna go back," Klaus declares, standing upright from his slouched position to turn away from Damon in disgust. My mate lazily makes his was to me and takes one of my hands in one of his own, beginning to drag me along in the direction of the room Gloria had disappeared to. Just as we reach the threshold, Klaus turns back to the vampire and leaves him with fatal parting words. "Damon, if you ever lay a finger on her head again, I will ruin you and everyone you love."

Klaus and I turn our backs to Damon and walk in the back room, which resembles a kitchen. Klaus guides me through there and into a short, dimly-lit hallway. The hallway only holds two doors. Klaus chooses the one that is open. As soon as the room comes into view, I see Gloria. She is putting on her thin jacket and grabbing her small purse, preparing to leave for the night.

"Gloria," Klaus calls out, grabbing her attention. Gloria glances at Klaus for a spit second before setting back to gathering her items. "I'll bring Rebekah here tomorrow, I promise." Gloria looks back up and this time let her eyes meet his. "You better," Gloria warns, tone meaning business. "Now," she begins as she walks past us and through the threshold of her office before continuing, "you two are going to stay here and clean that whole mess up out in the watering hole. Understand?" The witch doesn't give us a chance to reply before shoving the keys to the pub in our hands and turning to leave.

"Wait," I call out. Gloria turns back around and is the perfect picture of impatience: hand perched upon her jutted out hip, opposite leg outstretching to the side, and tapping of her strappy heels.

"What, child?" Gloria sighs jadedly.

"How are you supposed to get back in?" I question with concern.

Gloria's face brightens with amusement as she smiles warmly at me. "I'm a witch, baby. Remember?" Again, she waits for no answer before handing me a broom and dustpan, turning around, and this time successfully leaving.

Klaus crosses the distance of a few minuscule steps to be back by my side once again. "Come along, sweetheart," he instructs, though he grabs my left bicep in one of his big hands and begins walking, leaving me no option but to follow.

As soon as we cross into the bar, I see that Damon is no more. But, standing in his place is none other than the other Salvatore.

Stefan.

Klaus barely spares a glance in the vampire's direction. "Stefan, why don't you head back to the hotel, mate," Klaus says, more of an order than a question.

Stefan appears a bit stumped. He backs away and trips over a fallen chair rather awkwardly, causing my eyes to narrow in suspicion. "Uh, yeah," Stefan agrees before asking, "Are you sure?"

Something is wrong. Stefan is acting weird. Not that he isn't weird, like, all the time, but never _this_ weird.

 _Did Stefan see his brother? Did he speak to him? Did he somehow know that Damon would be here tonight?_

"Of course," Klaus assures tersely, accompanied by a stiff nod of his head.

Stefan begins backing away again. "Okay..." he says as he finally turns around and walks away, all the way until the front door closes behind him and Klaus and I are left alone.

I look over at Klaus, preparing to ask him where the cleaning supplies are but am surprised when I am immediately picked up from the ground and slammed flat on top of a booth table. Every bit of air leaves my greedy lungs courtesy of the large hand pressed against my chest. "Klau—" I begin but am immediately silenced.

"Quiet!"

My mate lets his larger body cascade over my own, embracing me in his warm, musk scent. His tan, muscled arms hold him up on each side of my head, effectively caging me inside his body's own makeshift prison. His breath caresses my skin, bathing my body in the heavy smell of alcohol. His observatory eyes trace over every inch of my skin, taking mental snapshots of every freckle, every scar, everything. Klaus reaches his right hand up to push a lock of hair behind my ear, restraining the blonde strands. His face comes closer to my own, shifting at the lat moment so that his lips can stroke the skin of my ear and whisper, "I want to be with you so bad that I've barely been able to control myself all night."

I quiver underneath his admission, my mouth opening and closing, unable to produce any words until they finally settle on two. "All night?"

Klaus buries his face in my shoulder, sniffing with deep inhales until he comes back to my ear. " _All night_ ," he carnally growls, confirming just what I need to hear.

I shiver beneath the weight of his words. "What are you going to do?" I whimper. Instead of receiving a verbal answer, Klaus lifts himself off of my body and I am jerked into a sitting position just before Klaus begins unceremoniously ripping off my clothes. First comes the black tee shirt I'd been offered this morning. Next I am shoved back down onto my back and my simple bra is ripped in half, right between the curvature of my breasts.

"Klaus," I attempt to protest but his name falls from my mouth as a whimper.

Klaus ignores my disapproval for ruining my only clothing and simply pushes the straps up my risen arms so that they are not in his way when his head makes the descension to my bare chest. His mouth hovers over my heaving lungs, teasing me with tortuously warm breaths. Only after each nipple peaks in arousal does Klaus let his hot mouth unite with one of my awaiting buds.

The hybrid generously sucks for the first few seconds before expertly biting the hardened nipple. While Klaus' tongue continues its sinuous attack, one hand reaches over to massage my untended breast with gentle tugs and pinches that gradually become more aggressive by each long passing minute.

My half-naked body becomes putty in his big hands. My normally cautious eyes close in ecstasy, followed by the opening of my mouth.

I forget about every stressful, chaotic thing present in my life and my focus hones in on Klaus. Every swipe of his hot tongue or calloused fingertips brings about a new wave of pleasure. I'm a moaning, whimpering mess by the time he kisses his way to the waistline of my jeans.

Klaus lifts his lips from my burning skin to align his gaze with mine as he unbuttons, unzips, and undresses me. He pauses briefly when interrupted by my annoyingly bright red sneakers, but simply tears them off my small feet before completing the removal of my jeans.

Klaus trails his way back up my body until we're chest to chest. He allows me to look into his eyes, which are bright with excitement. His full lips are a bruising shade of red and he has emerging stubble peaking through the skin on his strong jaw.

Klaus stands from his bent slouch and lowers himself right above my sex. His hands pull down my black, lace panties until they cross the border that is my feet. Once I am fully bare, Klaus spreads my pale legs until they are held back and unable to move inward by the sides of the table.

Completely at his mercy, I nearly stop breathing. "Klaus," I whimper, craving his intrusive, intimate contact on my body.

Seconds later, Klaus places his left hand on my most intimate part, thought not on my account, but his own. Klaus walks to the beat of his own drum in every sense of the word and sexual congress is no different. I'm the abused violin and Klaus is playing me until the end; fuddling every single one of my strings with precision, not a single not to be skipped.

Slower than Ernie Lombardi on the diamond, Klaus pushes a single digit into my sensitive, virginal heat. As I come closer and closer to my impending peak, Klaus adjoins another finger to the rhythm, short thrusts becoming faster.

I've never felt something so otherworldly before.

Abruptly, Klaus wrenches his skilled fingers from my dampness and I involuntarily cry out at my absent release.

I feel it before I see it. Klaus presses his tongue to my lower lips in an erotic kiss that makes me yearn for more. He licks and sucks and even bites in intervals, taking his time to taste my juices on his tongue. Nothing is soft. Nothing is gentle. Nothing is ever soft or gentle about Klaus.

But I don't want that.

Klaus refuses to stop, even when I beg him to. And even when I beg him not to. My orgasm comes as a sudden hit. I'm sent into a state of pure euphoria. I can't think or see. I can't even smell or hear. All of my senses burst along with my explosive climax.

Klaus lifts himself from between my shaking legs. Reaching one hand behind his head, Klaus removes his long-sleeve shirt. His pants come next and instead of taking them off, Klaus simply drags them down his long legs, along with his boxers, and leaves the pants pooled around his ankles. Of course, this is only to avoid taking his shoes off.

The two of us are unabashedly naked, appreciatively gazing upon the other's delectable body. I see every inch of Klaus' tanned skin; the short, blonde happy trail that begins right below his naval, the softly pronounced six-pack he works hard for, the big muscle he's been gifted that stands proudly to attention.

Klaus' hands come to rest — rest isn't even the right word, more like grip me in his vice-like hold — upon my slim hips to hold my body down against the table. My back involuntary arches and a moan rips from my throat. Klaus draws his body closer, pressing his lean body onto mine until I feel his member kiss my lower lips. He releases one of my hips to align himself with me. Klaus begins pushing further and further inside and then—

And then I am no longer there. I am no longer laying naked on a table and Klaus' hands are no longer on my body. We aren't about to commit to an intimate act and instead I still stand in the middle of the room, broom in one hand, dustpan in the other.

I stumble back upon the slap-in-the-face revelation and glance around the wide room, finding it just as ruined as it was before. "Alright, love?" I hear an all-too-smug voice say, laced with fake concern. Looking up, I see Klaus standing close to me, but not close enough to touch me. He has his customary smirk on full display and a devious glint in his eyes.

 _What the hell is he so happy about?_

Klaus must be able to read my mind or maybe my thoughts are exposed on my face, because he answers my unasked question. "It isn't hard to fill someone's head with visions, especially when one is as weak with the mating bond as your's is," the hybrid explains, taking full strides toward me until he can tilt my chin up with a curled finger. Whispering lowly, he muses, " Such a vulnerable, little thing." Klaus brushes a strand of my blond hair from my face. "Don't worry, love. As soon as you give into your wildest desire and return the bite, your fantasies shall become reality," he promises.

Klaus steps away and my chin falls without his support. He grabs a rag from behind the bar, along with its partner, the disinfectant spray. Walking over to one of the booths, Klaus begins wiping down it's grimy surface.

I dive the broom under the nearest table, beginning to clean on autopilot. I could have sworn I'd felt Klaus' hands on my body, had felt him removing my clothing, had experienced an earth-shattering orgasm. Klaus said that all I had to do was give in to my wildest desire if I wished to be pleased by him.

And what a wild desire it is.

———————————————————

The cleaning didn't take too long — twenty minutes tops. Klaus and I lock up the bar and leave for the night. When we get to the hotel, Klaus leaves the car after telling me to remain inside and returns minutes later with Stefan. He drives the short distance from the hotel to the warehouse Rebekah resides in and tells Stefan to hang back once we come inside.

As we make our way into the warehouse, we pass the guard who was here earlier, only now he lays on the concrete floor, puncture wounds embedded in his tan skin, blood staining his uniform, and his pulse silent.

Dead.

My eyes leave from the guardsman to Klaus', following his gaze to his sister's coffin. I peer inside only to find it empty of a certain blonde Original. My eyebrows furrow, head swirling in every direction, looking for any sight of her but finding none.

 _Where the hell did she disappear to?_

I watch Klaus as he looks at the dead guard and comes to the same conclusion I have: Rebekah is awake.

Just as I do, Klaus looks around for his little sister in the expansive area. "Rebekah... It's your big brother. Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunts, provoking her into exposing herself.

And it works.

My body is frozen as, in fast motion, Rebekah speeds over to Klaus and stabs him deep in the chest, causing him to gasp. "Go to hell, Nik!" the vampire screams. Immediately, a burning pain beneath my own skin forces my hands up to claw at the irritating sensation.

I see Klaus' eyes drift off to a far away place and can't help but wonder: what is he thinking?

———————————————————

 **Niklaus' POV**

Instantly, my thoughts are transported back to Chicago Circa nineteen-twenty. It was just after the police ambush, Rebekah and I were a safe ways away in this exact warehouse. I'd managed to grab a car from the side of the road and compel the driver occupying it to hand me the keys. All of our belongings were loaded into the large car, ready to flee the city, but 'Bekah was waiting for her newfound sweetheart like a lost puppy.

See that is the thing: my dear sister is a hopeless romantic. She has a whirlwind love every month. It isn't hard for her to move on from one guy to the next and call them the best thing that has ever happened to her. Rebekah associates freedom with love. If you are in love then you are free, nothing else matters. I, on the other hand, correspond freedom with being alive and far way from our father, Mikael.

 _"Hurry up, Rebekah. Let's go!"_ I had urged her snidely. I remember Rebekah just standing still behind the car, clad in her white flapper dress, red lips pursed in determination, pale hands in fists by her side.

I remember her eyes not even moving an inch to meet mine, too focused on the door to the warehouse. _"He'll be here any second,"_ she had insisted, but I was less than thrilled by her optimism. _"Do you want to die? We've been found. We need to move,"_ I attempted to persuade.

Rebekah, stubborn as always, had said, _"Not without Stefan."_ I remember seeing the ever-present tears welling in her eyes, signs of an oncoming tantrum. She had been so disappointed, hoping this week's love wouldn't stand her up.

 _"Stefan's not coming. We have to disappear. He'll draw too much attention. Let him go,"_ I had encouraged, attempting to come off as comforting but stern, willing her to listen to me. But my sister knew me all too well. _"What did you do?"_ Rebekah had demanded, although it was quiet, lacking conviction.

I had grabbed her arm from where it idly rested by her side. I remember thinking of how little time we had to get on the road, escape this place, and how much time Rebekah was wasting waiting for someone she'd never have, even though she thought otherwise.

Pulling on her arm, I had said, _"Come on. We don't have time for one of your tantrums."_ Rebekah had shook my harsh grip off and yelled, _"I don't want to run anymore, Nik! All we do is run. I want to be with Stefan."_

Words like hers had cut me deep back then. I flinch still thinking of them now. Family has always been everything to me and after two months of fun, my sister had risked us being caught by our horrid father for some vampire she just met? I mean, I understood her attachment. I had already felt attached to Stefan's hip, but I wasn't willing to give Rebekah up for him. Plus, I already compelled the poor lad to forget about my sister and I, it was the least I could do to keep him safe from Mikael.

I remember a few more words that had been exchanged. They consisted of me telling her to choose and her telling me goodbye, a sign that she had chosen Stefan — who now wouldn't remember her — over me. I had daggered her in the heart when she turned her back on me — literally, as well as figuratively. Rebekah's body had desiccated and I remember just standing there, watching, eyes focused on the glinting dagger.

The dagger.

Drawing my attention back to the present, I slowly remove the dagger from its position deep within my chest and drop it to the ground, hearing the cold metal clang.

I open my mouth to chastise my little sister on her pouting, but am interrupted by the fierce growl I hear. Looking over Rebekah's shoulder, I see my mate glaring over at my sister. Her eyes are narrowed defensively, fists clenched in anticipation for a fight, and jaw shut tight.

Rebekah also peers over her shoulder, wondering what that unfamiliar noise is. Scoffing when she sees Maxine, Rebekah says, "Who's mutt is this? Don't tell me you've taken this flea-bag in?"

 _Bad choice of words, sister._

The proud smirk I've been wearing slips from my lips, replaced by a disapproving scowl. My body hovers intimidatingly over Rebekah's to assert my dominance. Unaffected, Rebekah simply runs in Max's direction, but is halted when Max uses her magic to generate an aneurysm, just as she'd done to Damon earlier. Rebekah howls in pain, cradling her aching head in her palms.

Knowing Rebekah is momentarily subdued, I pull Max protectively under one of my arms. "Maxine, let her go," I tell my mate, expecting her to do as she is told. Rebekah moans in agony as Maxine continues her torture. A tired sigh is released from my lungs. One of my hands force Maxine to look at me, squishing her cheeks against her teeth. I flash my golden eyes at her, letting my wolf command her. In my eyes, there is a clear warning.

 _Do as I say. Listen._

Maxine reluctantly lets her hold over Rebekah slacken. Rebekah stands to her full height, swaying slightly, but managing to keep herself on her feet. Her furious expression is only enhanced by her hair, which is pulled back from curtailing her face. "What the hell is wrong with you," she spits at Max, vampire face in full view, provoking my own anger to peak. I step in front of my mate protectively, shielding her from Rebekah's Medusa-glare.

When Rebekah's gaze finally settles on me, I begin walking closer to the scorned blonde. "I understand that you're upset with me, Rebekah..." I place a comforting hand on her tense shoulder. Her face morphs back to their delicate features. "So, I'm going to let that go. Just this once. Brought you a little peace offering. You can come in," I call to Stefan who lurks just around the corner.

Stefan walks out once summoned, but no sign of recollection is present when he gazes upon Rebekah. Her voice is but a mere whisper when she says his name, but the vampire offers no acknowledgement toward her.

I leave my sister's side, trusting her to be too preoccupied with looking at her long lost love to hurt Maxine. I place a hand on Stefan's chest and compel him to remember the past I've kept hidden in his mind. "Now you remember."

I watch as the memories play through Stefan's eyes like a movie strip. The vampire makes his way around me, taking purposeful steps in Rebekah's direction. I hear him call her name, almost as if testing himself to see if he remembers how the syllables are supposed to fall from his tongue.

"Stefan," I call out, interrupting his reunion with my sister. Stefan pauses his pursuit, turning to me. I am sure fond memories of the two of us play out in his mind when he says, "I remember you. We were friends."

"We are friends," I correct, walking closer to place my hand on his shoulder. My eyes leave his, trailing back to my sister's blue one's that bared an uncanny resemblance to my own. "And now the reason you're here," I direct to Rebekah, getting straight to business. I remove my hand from Stefan's shoulder to walk closer to Rebekah until I stand before her. "Gloria tells me you know how to contact the Original witch."

My sister sneers. "The Original witch," she taunts, almost as if she believes me to be joking with her. Pushing her immaturity aside, I ask, "What do you have that Gloria needs?" I watch Rebekah as her hand glides up to her neck, gripping for something that is supposed to be there, but is absent. Alarmingly so. Her relaxed face morphs into one of panic and she looks down where her hand resides, causing confusion to rise within my eyes.

"Where's my necklace? What did you do with it? I never take it off!" Rebekah demands, becoming hysteric.

"I don't know. I didn't touch it," I reply truthfully, not having a clue what necklace she speaks of.

"We need to find it, Nik," Rebekah urges. I interrupt her by saying, "Tell me that's not what she needs," just as she raises her voice as well, saying, "Now! I want it back!" My hands fiercely grab her shoulders, shaking her as I repeat myself, "Tell me that's not what she needs, Rebekah!"

Rebekah pushes my grip off and rushes over to the coffin. She pushes the pillows and pulls back the siding, but when she doesn't discover her necklace, she slams the coffin lid closed and pushes it off its pedestal, onto the ground where the wood clamors and splits.

 _And there goes the temper tantrum._


End file.
